Missing Reese
by GingerRoseLee
Summary: When John's decision to trust Elias in getting baby Leila back from child smugglers has tragic consequences, Joss severs ties with him, resulting in his disappearance from New York. Six months later, a pleaful Finch entreats her to go on a cross-country mission to get him back. Will her love be the deciding factor in bringing John home again? A/U, ties in events from S1 with S3.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first chapter of a fic I had started after the new year, and that **_**would**_** have been my first one, but it got gutted by the technology beastie, so this all I have of it thus far (and I had gotten pretty far in it, too. Damn!). I haven't given up on rewriting the rest and finishing the last, but with a lot going on, it's been hard to get back to. In any case, here's what has survived. **

**This story focuses on Leila from "Baby Blue" in Season One, with a little bit of a dip into "Lethe" from Season 3 later on. Joss will be sent on a very special mission, but what she finds when she gets there could have either tragic ramifications—or romantic ones. If I get around to working on it again, we'll see!**

**In any case, I hope this little bit finds you well, and you enjoy it. And if you want to toss story ideas this way for it, feel free!**

**Disclaimer****: I own no part of Person of Interest or its characters. This is all just for spits and wiggles. **

******Note: (May 29,2015): Hi guys. I am updating this story (at long last!), so what you see here, while much of the same as it has been, will be now be arranged slightly differently, in order to get it ready for additional chapters. The italicized selection will now be 'Chapter 1," with the plain-text copy "Six Months Later" moved to start "Chapter 2." There, I will have added a little more to round that out, as well as to set it up for Chapter 3 and beyond. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you continue to enjoy 'Missing Reese' as it comes along, as well as the other stories. Blessings to all of you!*******

_They had decided on Washington Square Park to clear the air. Joss had been too busy, and frankly, to upset from the events taking shape at the multiple crime scene to get the answers that she needed. But she knew he had something to do with it when she saw him appear from the kitchen of the safe house they'd just had Moretti stashed in, blood on his hands. As more police cars careened on the scene, John quickly made himself scarce out of a bedroom window, but not before his eyes met hers, a mixture of panic, regret, and something else within them, something she would have thought alien to him before then—guilt._

_He was "guilty" of course, of many crimes—but he never apologized for his actions when it came to the criminal element of the city, so sure was he in the fitness of those actions; if he had to go after somebody, they more than well deserved it. Now, on this chilly mid-autumn day, on a bench in a more secluded area of the park, they sat together, facing Garibaldi's statue, the gulf between them wider than it had ever been. In fact, she could ever think of a time when it had been this wide, even when they'd first met in her precinct, after his fight with those punks on the subway._

"_John, what were you even doing talking to Elias?" she demanded. She had heard snatches of the details from Finch once she'd gotten her bearings about her later that day (and couldn't reach John), but as was often the case in his purposely vague way, not the meat of the matter. The pieces she did get, though, left her no doubt that anything John told her here, in addition, wouldn't be good news._

_He sat stock still against the bench, straight backed, and pressed his eyes shut. He turned his face into a grimace, as if he were a child who'd just broken his mother's window with the biggest rock on earth. When he continued to pause, Joss bellowed, "Answer me!"_

"_I had no choice. Finch and I lost the kid." His answer had been quiet, almost feather light._

_At that moment, the memories of baby Leila flooded his mind, and he recalled his experiences. Her cooing, her toothless grin, the way she'd reach for him when he'd come with her bottle, or to change her diaper. It made him smile. He hadn't been wild about Finch bringing a baby into the library, but she needed help, and it wasn't long before she had him wrapped around her tiny little fingers. Pretty soon, the overwhelming need to see her safe, to protect her at all costs, consumed him. When the baby's callous grandmother had been able to abduct her, he made a deal with the one person he knew he shouldn't trust in order to get her back. Even Finch tried to warn him off that Faustian course. But their other options had been exhausted. _

_John growled low then. Until his dying day, he swore he would find a way to repay Elias for letting his war with Moretti take such innocence as collateral._

_Joss listened, of course. She listened with her heart breaking for him in his agony. She knew he'd done what he thought was best, would never willingly endanger a child. She also knew he was suffering. But she couldn't overlook this. Elias indeed could not be trusted. And the domino effects only aided in making this tragedy with Leila even worse. Syzmanski was now in a hospital bed, a bullet to his abdomen. Moretti was missing. And Leila had been sold into a child trafficking ring, the worse kind of double-cross. Elias didn't have to lift a finger to get his father in his clutches; John practically delivered the old man to him, giftwrapped._

_She pressed her lips into a firm line before she spoke. She shivered, and it had very little to do with the raw cold surrounding them in the park. She had to get herself under control, or she might choke with the gravity of it all. When she finally did speak, her voice was low, her words carefully measured. However, there was no mistaking the anger, the disappointment in her tone. She swiveled to face him. He brown eyes bore into his so hard that he had to turn away._

"_Jesus, John…you say you had no choice. But you know what? You did. You did have another choice. It's called the 'the police.' It's what we do. If you'd trusted me with this from the start, I could have helped you and the baby. But you couldn't do that, could you? You and your friend have all the answers. Carter? What about Carter? Oh, she's great for accessing the sealed files on juvvie runaways, of course, but anything involving actual police work? On the up and up? Nah, we're the smart guys, we got this. Well, it's more than clear that you don't. You got nothin.' The baby is gone, more than likely forever now. "And, she punctuated firmly, "Syzmanski might not make it because of you!"_

_John let go of the breath he now realized he'd been holding. His face was haggard, unshaven. Losing Leila to a life of hell on earth ate away at him like nothing else ever had. He hadn't been taking care of himself, hadn't slept properly for days, and he'd been seeking solace in the one solution he found made sense when all the others failed him: the whiskey bottle. Now, this from Joss. God, that she could believe that he thought so little of her and her abilities made him physically ache._

_He shut his eyes ever more tightly. Had it been anyone else, there'd have been tears spilling from them. It was as if he thought he could somehow magically make the words she'd been saying, and more importantly, the perceptions behind them, disappear by doing so. She had to know she meant more to him than that. So much, much more. When allowed himself the indulgence of happy fantasies, in those rare moments when the numbers were few, he would thing about this beautiful park being the perfect setting for him finally telling her so, directly, explicitly. Even now, his heart and tongue were restless to reveal how she affected him, how much he needed her in his life, how he would rather not go through this alone. How he prayed she wouldn't hate him, could forgive him somehow. He hated himself enough. _

_But he didn't. Instead, he whispered gravelly, again, almost to the point where she couldn't hear him. As if he weren't really there. "That's not true, Joss. Everything I have done, Finch and I have done has been about protection—you are a part of that, a big part. Your career. That moral compass pointed in the right direction. I told you before, once you go down that road, there's no going back."_

_He stumbled over some of his words, as if his brain was all a jumble and he was running on pure feeling instead of coherency. He was grasping at anything that would make her hear him, understand him. Believe in him. _

"_It's not that I don't think you're capable, Joss. Never that. You are one hell of a detective. I trust you completely. I just—always, my concern is to keep you safe in the long term, and the less you know, the better."_

_Joss shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. Was he serious? "Safe? Safe, John? Come on! You and Finch still won't tell me where you get your intel from. And yet, I have looked the other way on your behavior more times than I can count! I'm not 'safe,' John. I'm already in way deeper than I ought to be. My life is already on the line, not to mention, my job, my freedom, my kid's life, all of it. So yeah, baby, I'm in it about as much as I can be without holding a damn press conference announcing as much. But I'm here, John. I'm __**here**__. Why is that so hard for you to understand? Why can't you see that?"_

_Her emotions were on high burn now. She was eternally grateful to John for everything he had done so far, especially for saving her from Bottlecap that night in the alley, but she was no shrinking violet. He could have trusted her. And while it had been nice to have someone of his caliber and passion give a damn about her the way he did, this time, with so much loss he couldn't think this declaration made it all better. This was bad. Ridiculously bad. And the only way for her to regain some perspective over the situation was to change the situation. She was done._

"_You know what? Don't. Don't answer that. Really. It wouldn't change anything anyway." Putting her gloved hand up in sorrowful exasperation, she cut off any reply he might have been willing to give. _

_She then reached into her trench coat and pulled out the burner phone. The only people who called her on it were John and Harold. She had decided, even before she'd come there to meet him, even before she heard him out, that she was finished doing the side jobs with them. And that whatever connection she had with John alone, as infuriating, crazy—and amazing—as it had been, or could have been, had to be ended too. No more half measures, no more letting it slide for the greater good. She had to figure out a way to clear up this mess, and she couldn't do that while still being complicit._

_Hell, she had a pair of cuffs on her; she could just arrest him. But then, where would she even begin with the charges? And how would she explain her own involvement in all this? Besides that, she knew she could never stand to see John caged in any way, after the incident with Snow. He wouldn't survive something like that forever, ex-Special Forces or not. The very thought tore at her heart._

"_Here. You might want this. I don't anymore."_

_John looked slowly down into her hand. He stared at the phone for several seconds before his gaze lifted to hers. So beautiful, he thought. A man could get lost happily in those soft baby browns. Hell, he did get lost in them, practically every time he saw here, loveliness and light residing in their depths. But at the moment, he saw nothing there but sadness—and the resolve born of conviction to do what she thought was best. He couldn't fault her for that, he knew. Still, the deeper meaning behind her gesture was like a two-punch to the chest. _

_He swallowed slowly, and with a heavy sigh, gently took the burner phone from her hand, allowing his fingers the briefest brush across hers before putting it in his own pocket. He focused his attention on some random woman passing by on a bike. His reddened eyes watered slightly, the normally startling blue now pale and distant._

"_You know, John, this doesn't change what I feel for you."_

_John raised his eyebrows at that one. He couldn't help himself. He had found his voice now. Deep, though slightly raspy. "And just what do you feel for me, Joss?"_

_She had let that one slip. Damn! There was no way she was going to tell him ALL of what she felt about him. That topic had never come up before in all the time they'd been friends and work partners. And now was absolutely not the time for it to come up. She had to think fast, stay on point. But how could she do that? Even now, in this horrific circumstance, even here, he was just so…irresistible. She must have been nuts, but there it was. However, she, too, found her voice all the same._

"_I…I still think you're a good, kind man with a giving heart and a conscience that's less corrupt than half the priests in this city and most all the cops, b-but I can't…I can't do this any longer. It-it pulls me in far too many directions that I'm just not comfortable with. I'm sorry."_

_He returned his gaze outward again, where the biker had been, but who was now long gone. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. But then, what else would she have said? What had he expected her to say? He knew the risks she put herself in by being associated with him, knew them all too well. She had the absolute right to pull away, but still, she couldn't possibly know just how much he was starting to die at hearing her do it. _

_Meanwhile, Joss' lowered head stared at her lap, the threads of her trench coat catching in and out of focus as wetness blurred her vision. She chalked it up to the cold. She couldn't possibly be crying over ending this, could she?_

_The whole thing was crazy. She was a cop and a mother, and she had responsibilities to both of those vocations that John and Finch couldn't possibly understand. Because she'd been slow on the ball with them, a child was sold into slavery, a good cop was injured, and the man they had been protecting was now in danger. This had to end, the sooner the better. But then, why was her heart pounding so hard she thought it would come apart? And why did she feel as if she was killing something good, something rare and precious? Cold weather didn't do that._

_When he spoke, breaking the silence, his voice was deep. Steely. Cold. Joss heard the change and it broke something within her. He hadn't used that tone with her since the days of his being the shadowy Man in the Suit. His mood had blackened, turned almost…dangerous. And while she trusted him as much as ever never to hurt her, she'd have been lying if she'd said he wasn't scaring her, just a little._

"_Right, Joss. Whatever you need. Effective immediately, your partnership with Finch and me is officially dissolved."_

"_It's nothing personal, John. Like I said, this doesn't change how I feel about you as a man, as a friend. I just—"_

_John grunted and laughed bitterly, cutting her off. "Somehow, I doubt that, Joss. With you, it's always personal. That's why I picked you for this. You actually give a damn. Who knows? Maybe you give more of a damn than you should." And then, looking fully into her eyes for a moment before letting his sloe-eyed gaze leisurely travel to her lips, "maybe we both do. I think I have to stop making that mistake."_

"_John…" She could see the transformation in his face complete itself. The lines got harder, his eyes grew darker. And soon, the emotional mask, the one he used to keep everyone at bay, save for her and Finch, was now confronting her._

"_We're done here, Detective Carter." There it was. Her impersonal title. Not "Joss." Not even "Carter." Formal, icy, calculated. Her spirit screamed its despair, and all she wanted to do was reach out and hold him, desperate to keep the John she knew from slipping away._

"_John, please, try to under—"_

_At the touch of her hand on his arm, he stood up as if he'd been hit by a bolt of electricity and left her there on the bench, disappearing into the throngs of the park goers and out of her life. She called after him, the last utterance of his name coming out a broken sob._

_She couldn't say just how long she cried in her bed that night before drifting off into a deep sleep, his name a whisper on her lips as her battle against exhaustion ended._

**A/N: Again, present-day additions will now be in the next chapter and beyond. Thanks again, all, and be well!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Much of this was already posted, but Chapter 1 is now split from Chapter 2, which will make upcoming Chapter 3 a bit more streamlined. Joss gets an unexpected surprise at lunch here. Thanks for reading, everyone!**

**Six Months Later**

The warm spring air passing through New York City was like a tonic after the long and bitter winter. It had seemed as if these balmy days, with their bright flowers and jackets left at desks would never come. Joss needed the lift badly, due to both the usual depression winter tended to bring, and the constant thoughts of John doing battle for dominion with the ten million other things on her mind. In the nights following her severing ties with him and Finch, she couldn't sleep, pain and sorrow marring his beautiful face as it loomed in the darkness.

During the day, she thought every tall, dark white male she saw in a dark suit was John, from behind. It took her two whole weeks before she stopped expecting him to turn up in her living room as she walked through the door. Even longer it took for her to stop expecting him to invite himself into the passenger seat of her squad car. Neither occurrences ever occurred anymore.

She second-guessed her decision constantly, thinking that maybe she'd been too hard on him. Maybe they could have found a way to get through this. After all, no one but her had been able to place him at the crime scene, and even if they could, his paper trail had long since been extinguished. As far as the world knew, he was at best, dead. Hard to lock up and keep somebody who didn't have any real identity left.

But rational Joss, by-the-book Joss dismissed that notion soon enough. She had grown to care deeply for him, of course; just how deeply she didn't really want to contemplate, but his actions had caused such upheaval that she knew that she'd done the right thing, said the right things that day in the park. And though she missed aspects of John's ways terribly—the soft, sultry, "hello, Detective" she'd hear over the burner phone that sent a tingle throughout her body and put a smile on her face, that cocky, self-assured smirk that he seemed to reserve just for her, that old-school movie star, salt-and-pepper haircut, and those blue eyes that, if she were honest in her heart, could bring a gal to her knees—she knew there was no going back.

She blushed at that last one. Her face felt even warmer in the afternoon sun, as she walked across the street from the precinct to Marl's Deli for a quick take-out lunch for herself and Detective Fusco, who had made the suggestion. Her badge shone brightly in the sunlight as it rested next to her holster, making shadows on the walls of buildings as she passed. She was glad she opted for a sleeveless white blouse to wear under suit coat. The sun on her bare arms was, indeed, heavenly.

_No, no, no, Joss,_ she thought to herself_. No dirty fantasies about John_. She should probably say no _more_ dirty fantasies about John. Because, for some reason, since she stopped communicating with him, she'd been having those kinds of thoughts. A lot. Sometimes she'd even wake up from a dream all hot and bothered, and he'd been the cause of it. Not that she hadn't had the odd one or two visions of something more going on between them than good-cop-badass-vigilante before then. Okay, maybe more than the odd one or two. But they were just thoughts, the oddball ramifications of profound withdrawal for a relationship—a platonic relationship—that had come to mean so much in the span of time that she'd gotten to know him.

Nothing would ever come of them. She'd had too many misgivings all along about his work that had come to bear fruit, even if she'd come to trust him with her very life. Besides, she got the feeling that a woman like Zoe Morgan was more his type anyway. At least that's how Zoe Morgan would play it.

It just didn't make sense though. He wasn't even around anymore. She would feel him keenly if he were. Why the hell, of all the things she could think about, should think about, was John Reese still front and center? Yeah, it was all just crazy.

His absence was keenly felt in other ways. He wasn't just out of her orbit, but he seemed to have dropped out of the vigilante game altogether. Crime had spiked in recent months, as word seemed to get out that the kneecapping Man in the Suit must have met his maker. Perps took a little longer for Joss and her fellow officers to catch, the legwork John and Finch would do for her making it an easy job to simply lock the cuffs on and haul 'em away.

And Fusco seemed just a little lost without John to give him a good kick in the ass when he needed it. He didn't know what had gone down to make John scarce, and although on the surface he made jokes about being glad that Tall, Dark, and Deranged hadn't been needling him lately, she could tell that he really missed the man who had also become a good friend. At the very least, he was worried. But he never asked if she'd seen him or had heard anything. And she didn't offer to tell him.

Her phone buzzed. Taking it out of her suit pocket, just as she approached Marl's, she smiled when she saw the caller ID. Speak of the devil, she thought.

"What is it, Fusco?"

"Hey, Carter, are you still going to Marl's?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just wanted to be sure. The last guy who went for a lunch run for me was a rookie, ended all the way up in Jamaica Plain and never brought anything back for all that. What lets these dimebag rejects think they can be cops if they can't fill a simple food order?"

Joss laughed" Well, I'm nobody's dimebag reject, so I'll be sure to get you what you want, Fusco. Cheeseburger and extra fries, extra cheese, lettuce and tomato. Got it right here."

"Thanks, Carter…and Carter?"

"Yeah, Fusco?"

"I'm…I'm…just…see ya, soon, Carter. I'm countin' on ya. "

Joss' nose wrinkled a little. "So serious, Lionel," she said in a slight mimicry of John's voice and preferred way of addressing Fusco. It's just a burger and fries; how hard can it be to fill that? Look, if I mess this order up, you get free lunch on me for a week. Stop worrying. I'll see you soon, too."

She heard him pause for a second, almost thinking he had hung up already, then he spoke up. "Yep, partner…looking forward to it. But take your time. Enjoy the weather a little bit. It'd be good for you."

"I am enjoying this weather, don't you worry. But I won't take too long. Don't want your food to get cold—nor mine. Catch you in a bit."

Joss ended the call and headed over to the deli. This was the best time of day to go, after the noon-1:30 lunch rush, when all the Wall Street minions had already flooded out of their brokerage houses to descend on Marl's and other small-yet-popular eateries nearby. Joss couldn't stand the crowds, couldn't stand the wait. But Marl's had some of the best burgers in this part of New York. She just had to figure out a way to get in there without the crazy taking place. Waiting until after two was a brusier on the appetite, but it was worth it for the relative peace and quiet.

She wondered about Fusco. Was concerned for him a little. She knew what her reasons were for missing John, and his effect on her life. But what of Fusco? John had been responsible for pulling Lionel back from the brink in a number of ways. He'd stopped drinking, became more of a father to his kid. And, in the ultimate act of "tough love," forced him to give up the corrupt bad habits he'd picked up from HR. While John's methods were rather unorthodox—and arguably, criminal in their own right—they'd done the trick. That influence was no small thing. And Fusco was a far better cop—a far better man now—for it.

Oh, John, she sighed. I hope that, wherever you are, you realize how much you mean to the people who care about you."

She continued onwards to Marl's suddenly nearly not as hungry as she had been. But Fusco was waiting on his grub, and she'd never hear the end of it if she didn't deliver.

##

As predicted, the crowd at Marl's had settled down, although there was still a considerable presence of patrons milling about and settling in at booths. Joss noticed a mix of folks, based on their attire, in the two lines formed, one of which she stepped in. Some of the stockbrokers were still there, some teens just out of school for the day, moms with young children.

In front of her was a small baby carriage with a man she assumed to be the child's father, no more than six or seven months old, a girl, with light brown hair in a onesie jumper jacket. She was cutting more teeth, but wasn't in the discomfort Joss knew well from experience with Taylor at that age. The little girl was relaxed and happy, making gurgling sounds while trying to put her feet in her mouth. Upon spying Joss spying her, she took her foot away from her face to flash Joss a toothy-gummy grin.

Joss laughed at the baby's antics and finger waved at her. "Hi, baby, how are you? Are you having a good day, sweetie?"

The baby gurgled more and squealed in response. It would appear that she was. Joss laughed again. It hadn't been that long ago when her own baby had been that small and precious. She sighed and then frowned, as the thought of another baby, Leila, arose from her memory. She wondered what could have become of her, whether or not she was being well-cared for somehow. Or if she was alive or dead.

A visceral pang of hurt spread across her heart. Damn, damn Elias! How could someone do such a thing? Harm an innocent baby as a means to such a devious end? But then, this was Elias, a man who wanted to kill his own father. Moretti was no angel by definition, but he was still his old man. The pair of them were bad news, in truth. While Joss had suffered wounded pride in not being able to get him back into protection before his death, she wasn't sorry to see him go. He had caused enough trouble. So had his gangster son.

Joss' attention turned from the baby for a second to look at the paper menu she'd picked up upon walking in. Fusco's cheeseburger and fries were accounted for, and while her appetite had waned a little, it wouldn't do her not to eat something. She settled on a chicken Caesar salad with a diet cola. As she made her selections, the baby in the carriage had suddenly dropped the tiny shoe she had managed to take off. Joss quickly bent down to pick it up for her, but as she reached for the shoe, another hand also went to retrieve at the same time. When she saw who the hand belonged to, she froze in her place.

"I believe you were going for this first, Detective. Here you are. I trust that the little girl this shoe belongs to would prefer receiving it from you, rather than me. I am afraid…I don't have much luck with babies."

Stunned, as if she'd seen a ghost, Joss found herself staring headlong into the blue, bespectacled eyes of Harold Finch.

"Harold? What are you doing here? And where did you come from?" Other than John, Harold Finch was the last person she'd ever expected to see again.

"I assure you, Detective, I wouldn't be troubling you after all that has happened if it were not of the utmost urgency. The truth is, we need to talk, Joss. It concerns our mutual friend. And I don't engage in hyperbole when I say it may be a matter of life and death."

**A/N: So, with a little tweaking, I have set up for working more deeply with the story from where I left it (or where the computer did). Working on Chapter 3 as we speak, and hopefully, it will expand for quite a bit. It's short here, so I don't expect much in reads, but if you do, give a holler and let me know how it's looking thus far for expansion. Thanks for hanging in, and see you soon. Cheers, you all!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here we have Chapter 3, in which Finch provides Joss insights into John's past as a means of shedding light on his possible current whereabouts. John has done a decent job of covering his tracks, but one piece of information might be just the clue that could lead to his location. A very Finch-centric chap, so again, I hope I was able to capture his voice and diction effectively!**

**The story thus far is pretty much as I remember writing it initially, with a few tweaks here and there, of course. I'm not quite up to where I was when the computer ate it, but I'm getting there. Thanks for reading, everyone, and enjoy!**

After getting over the initial shock of seeing him in front of her after all this time, Joss wanted answers. "All right Harold. You got me. What is this all about?" At the outward glance, Joss' eyes appeared as if they were boring holes into him as she asked, but inwardly, she was actually glad to see him. He was the connection to John that she had to admit she missed almost as much as John himself. But she never appreciated being deceived, and she felt as if some deception had indeed taken place.

It was at that moment that something clicked for her. Lionel must have been in contact with Harold about arranging a meeting between them, but it had to seem as if it were a coincidence, their running into each other like that. That's what all that cryptic talk had been about. At the expression on her face, Harold guessed the direction of her thoughts.

"Detective, might we move out of the line and find a booth to sit in? This seems awfully inappropriate for our purposes." With his longstanding injuries, it had been a minor ordeal for him to bend and pick up the child's shoe, but he'd managed. However, now, a booth would be a most welcome respite from standing.

"Finch," she said, recalling the title she usually gave him, "_my _purpose was to get myself and Fusco some lunch. I'm not sure what your—or his for that matter—purposes are, but it might be nice to have some clue, since this obviously involves me somehow. But okay. Let's find a booth."

The pair crossed the deli and found a secluded enough booth near the rear. They sat opposite one another.

"Forgive me, Detective, but I needed to enlist Detective Fusco's help in making this meeting between us take place. After the unfortunate occurrences with Leila, you severed your ties with both Mr. Reese and myself, and while I completely understand why you felt you had to do that, I felt it necessary to reestablish contact between us for a terribly vital reason, one I'm sure that, despite whatever misgivings you may have, you'll be rather interested in hearing."

Joss raised her eyebrow. She heard him say that it had something to do with John. And he was right. She would be rather interested. But she needed something concrete to make this worth her time—and her limited lunch hour. "Well, Harold? What is this matter of 'life and death,' as you put it, that is so vital for me to know about? And it'd better be good because, while you may still be in the vigilante business, I'm not anymore. You know that. So choose your words carefully."

A glum look passed over Harold's face, like the lowering of a curtain at sundown. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, which he wiped nervously with his handkerchief. Taking a deep breath, he let it go in a slow sigh, his words coming forth in a weary sadness. "Detective, Mr. Reese is gone. He has been for just a little over five months now. I trust that you have noticed his absence from the beat of our often gritty streets, but I might as well make it official."

Joss leaned back in her seat, needing to make sure she had a proper support to hold her up, lest she tumbled from her seat. _Official? Gone? What the hell did that mean?_ A dreadful thought, a horrible vision crossed her mind. _Jesus, not John! He couldn't be_…

Harold once again read the direction of her thoughts and sought to reassure her, "No, no, no, Detective. That fate hasn't befallen Mr. Reese. At least I don't think it has. At least I pray that it hasn't." He folded his hands and gently placed them on the booth table. With a frown, his sad eyes focused on Joss, eyes that knew loss, knew longing all too well. She found her heart wrenching for him; how many people had he lost in his life that mattered? If John was now "gone," whatever that meant, he'd certainly have to count him as one of the key people that had crossed his path.

"The truth is, Detective, that I'm not really sure what's become of John, nor am I exactly sure where he is, but I do have a strong hunch about that particular mystery, based on bits and pieces of data I was able to attain on him before we started working together. Unfortunately, when John took his leave of us, he made sure to cover his electronic trail as much as he could, which has left me at a slight disadvantage in finding him. No cell phone, no credit card trail, not even cash withdrawals from debit cards."

Joss was puzzled. "Why would he do that, Harold?"

"Because he knew I'd try looking for him, Detective. And more than likely, he was reeling from the loss of Leila—and your friendship—so much that he felt the best thing to do was to let it all go. To let us go."

Joss sighed. Despite believing in her mind that she'd done the right thing in cutting John off, in her heart she never felt good about her decision, and the guilt weighed on her. She was sad that she hadn't heard this news before now. Had she known the lengths John would go in order to actually drop off the grid completely, she'd have never let him go through with it, no matter how angry she'd been. The work he did was still far too important—he was too important—whether he knew it or not.

But her curiosity was piqued. Why was Harold telling her this now, six months later? She decided to see what he'd brought to the table before asking him that one. He carried a small briefcase, and she gestured towards it. "What do you have there, Harold?"

He pulled the briefcase to the table and opened it. "Information, Detective. Scant information, but perhaps enough to go on in ascertaining Mr. Reese's whereabouts. It's more anecdotal than concrete, for the most part, but again, it may be critical to ascertaining his location."

Upon opening the case, he took out a small stack of files and laid them on the table.

"As I said, Detective, I'm quite certain that John knew that I would try to track him down, and as his identity is essentially made up of aliases anyway, his going further underground is neither here nor there. However, I as I mentioned, I did do extensive research on his background before our relationship commenced, and what I was able to gather then was indeed accurate biographical material up to that date. These small files bear the contents of that material."

He handed the files to Joss. She took them, the knot of interest forming between her brows. Despite her better judgment, she opened them up and spread the contents on the table. Army records, previously classified CIA documents that she didn't even want to know how he got, high school transcripts, health records, even a third-grade report card—where, to no surprise, he excelled at physical education, American History, and was "a quiet role model for the other children"—were all a part of the materials in front of her, a fairly organized sketch of John's earlier life.

All of it fascinated her; the documentation opened up more doors to John's past than she had ever been privy to, even as his close friend. But there were two pieces that most caught her attention, and actually made her heart skip a few warm beats upon seeing them. One of them was his birth certificate. While his last name had been excised—no doubt by Harold—his date, place, and time of birth were all presently listed. The story they told was that he had been born on May 1, 1969 in Pullayap, Washington, at 2:19 am. His parents' names were listed as Julia and John Sr., again, with the last names excised. His birth weight was 7lbs 7 oz, and he was a height of 21 inches, already a tall one. At the bottom corner was an imprint of his little baby feet, all ten toes accounted for.

She'd wagered that he was a most beautiful baby, probably born with a head full of dark hair. She'd found herself wishing that she could have seen a photo of him at that age; however, the one Finch possessed of him at the age of nine would have to suffice.

In that picture, he did have a head full of tousled dark hair, longish, which came to just shy of his shoulders. He was posing outside, in what looked like a cul-de-sac of a typical American suburb, with a football in his hands and a number 12 jersey on his chest, a beaming snagga-toothed smile from ear to ear. Along each side of him stood two people Joss guessed were his parents. In fact, she could see reflections of John in both of them. From his mother, he got the smooth olive skin, she was so familiar with, as well as the black-silver foxiness of his hair that he now bore.

But from his father, he was blessed with the proportional yet delicate forehead, the high cheekbones, and those startling deep-set blue eyes. The angular jaw and the smirk could be attributed to his father as well. He was a strikingly gorgeous boy. It stunned her to be able to get a glimpse of him at such a time, before the military, before the Agency, before the numbers. Like everyone else, even the bad ass vigilante John Reese, who took shit from no one, who commanded attention everywhere he went, had just been an innocent child, a gregarious little one who liked gym class and probably got an early start on his crime fighting path by standing up to the bullies at recess.

Her finger traced the outline of John's young face over and over. She could have stayed there all day doing that, with a smile all her own, had not Finch cleared his throat, interrupting her reverie.

"Yes, Detective, he was quite a handsome boy, wasn't he?" he said warmly, with a shy smile.

"Yes, Harold, he was. How—how did you get these? Does he know you have all this?"

"As I said, Detective, research. I had to know with what and whom I was hitching my fate before I took him on as a partner in the mission I'd embarked upon with the numbers. Some bits of material were more readily available than others, I'll admit."

He continued, pressing his slender, pale hands on the file information, while motioning his body gently towards her as he spoke, as if he were benignly pleading a case of some kind. "But I like to have an idea of an entire history of a subject, not just work or criminal histories. That's just so very…impersonal. In this work that we do, as you know, Detective, humanity is our business, from end to end: victims, perpetrators…team members. That must be accounted for in everything we undertake. On a practical note, however, considering John's unique situation at the time of my initial interest in him, a more thorough background investigation was necessary. No room for surprises, no loose ends. The work was too important. And, to answer your other question, some of it he does, some not."

Joss nodded her head. "That makes sense. But what does all of this have to do with John _now_?"

"Well, Detective, all of this information points to John's past, his life before he became involved—and conflicted—with the lifestyle of serving our country in Special Forces and the CIA. When he first…disappeared, I figured he might have hopped a flight out of the country, ventured to some remote locale where he could have submerged himself in a sort of monastic existence until the end of his days. But then—"

"—but then, that would have required passports, visas, and other documents that a man trying to not leave a trail would need, even to get to that remote location." Joss followed his line, the detective wheels beginning to spin rapidly in her head now.

"Precisely, Detective. Now, there may be a scant possibility that John could still have a contact or two from his military or CIA past—Mark Snow notwithstanding—that could assist him in such an undertaking, but, given what great risk to life and freedom for him that would be, such a course of action would be highly unlikely."

"Okay, so no plane hopping. What else you got?"

Harold fished about in the breast pocket of his suit coat. "These, Detective." Pulling out a mid-length envelope, he opened it for her and spread out its contents with the rest of the documents.

"If you consider the records I've already shown you, you'll notice that, while Mr. Reese is a native of Washington State, he did not, in fact, grow up there. The report card and the photo of him with his parents was actually taken in Colorado, in and around the city of Boulder. That is where Mr. Reese would have spent his formative years, though he did return briefly to Washington after his high school education to attend state university, though it is also during that time that he had a change of direction, instead embarking on a military career."

Joss gave a once over to the locations listed again. Harold was right. Even the third-grade report card showed a Colorado address for Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Grammar School. She silently choked back a chuckle at that_. Catholic school, huh? Oh, if only the Mother Superiors could see what a not-so God fearing hellraiser he turned out to be! _

Returning her attention to Harold's parcel contents, she eyed them quizzically. The wheels in her head were set to burn rubber now. "What's that, Harold?"

"A breakthrough, Detective. Information that I had not considered before, to be honest, but once it came to my attention made me feel like a fool for not doing so before."

What Harold had was not a flight manifest or a registered passport, but instead receipts. Bus ticket receipts, to be exact. They had been purchased at the Port Authority, and they laid out a course for a one-way trip from New York to Denver.

"How long has it been since you first 'considered' this evidence, Harold?"

"Frankly, not until a few days ago, Detective. I've not…been much myself since Mr. Reese's departure, I'm afraid. I haven't really had much cause to be. You see, when you and Mr. Reese severed ties, he began to pull away even before he finally left the city. The first week afterward, he was still present well enough, performing in his capacity, but I could tell that his break with you affected him deeply. His body was present, but his energy, his spirit, weren't. He would barely speak to me. By the end of that week, I could even detect the aroma of alcohol on his breath at work—something that would have never happened in the past, even though it wouldn't have been the first time since I've known him that he'd have sought a fool's solace in a whiskey bottle."

_No, it wouldn't have_, she thought, remembering how she'd met him: in her precinct, after a fight with some thugs on the subway. He'd gone to town on all of them, five or six strong kids in all, and he'd been drunk off his nuts while doing it. Blood alcohol level off the charts. But still, he'd singlehandedly kicked every single one of those kids a new ass, let alone the ones they already had. She knew something was different about him as soon as she saw that tape of him in action.

Her eyes fell slowly downward and she let go of a shaky sigh. This was all her fault. Dear God, this was all her fault.

"Right, Harold. I guess it's time I take my lumps for this. I'm…I'm sorry I made John go away. If I had known he'd be so deeply hurt, I wouldn't have-"

Harold hastily placed a hand on top of hers and squeezed. "Oh, no, no, Detective, that was not my intention in bringing this up, nor in coming here today. _You_ are not to blame for anything. In truth, at the time of the unfortunate events surrounding Leila and Detective Syzmanski, I…agreed with you. I warned Mr. Reese about the contract he was entering into with Elias for Leila's safety, but, as he told you, he felt he had no choice in the matter.

He rubbed his temples, the stress of the past few months visible on his face. "And I—I actually wish to apologize to you, Detective Carter, for your being compromised, as part of an operation that not only saw your colleague injured, but also put you and your career in the crosshairs of ruin. You were right to remind John that he is not God, that neither one of us is, and that, to borrow a colloquial expression, 'he screwed up.' We both did." Allowing his own eyes to fall now, with a pained vulnerable expression running through them, he continued, "never in my life has there been a time when I was most reminded of that fact than these past few months."

His deprecation broker her heart. In all this time, she hadn't considered what their break would have done to Harold. He had stayed away because he'd known her feelings and her wishes. But her urgency had cooled in the intervening months, even if her conviction remained the same. She wished she'd known what he'd been going through; her own loss of John seemed to her foolish in comparison to how his best friend and comrade had been suffering without him.

"I'm so sorry, Harold." She covered the hand covering hers with her other one. It seemed so inadequate, the expression, but it was the only one that still seemed most fitting to say.

"That's perfectly all right, Detective. Perfectly all right."

"Can I take a closer look, Harold?" Joss asked, motioning towards the ticket copies. Getting back to subject was probably the best idea for a few reasons, the least of which was that it would prevent a weepy, emotional scene on her part—perhaps both their parts—that she hadn't been prepared for. They'd just been there a little while, but the maelstrom of feelings that came with being pulled back into John's life, even vicariously, were strong—potently so. She had to refocus on the matter at hand, and perhaps find out just what it was Harold had up his sleeve that required her presence.

"Of course, Detective. Here you are." Harold pushed the copies closer to her, in a way that she would guess was rather deliberate. They, too, told a brief story of a traveler's life, one much more recent, of course, but, as the details became clearer, no less poignant than that birth certificate or those Distinguished Service commendations did.

"Harold, you said you got these just a few days ago? After five months gone?"

Harold nodded. "Yes, Detective. These just came to my attention a few days ago. Better late than never, I hope."

The tickets were purchased, in person, and dated for departure on December 25th—Christmas Day—on the 3:50 am trip. She guessed that the preference was to get an early start for such a long journey, and that the cover of arctic darkness was perfect for someone who desired to be undisturbed—and unconvinced to stick around for a while longer. The fact that departure was on Christmas morning underscored an indifference born, in reality, of pain. Christmas Day was just another day, as good as any other to get the fuck outta Dodge, or Lower Manhattan, in this case. And that would be just like him. He had no family, no ties, no loving domestic scene in front of the Christmas tree to go to. He didn't even have her anymore. What would Christmas be now to a man like John?

Flipping through the reservation pages further, Joss caught sight of the travel itinerary. From the departure at Port Authority, she saw that the trip would have taken him just shy of a day, with stops in Philly, Harrisburg, over to West Virginia, Columbus, OH, Dayton, Indianapolis, St. Louis, parts of Kansas, and finally, on to Denver. Quite a way to see the country—and perhaps do some serious soul-searching as the wheels rolled along the highways.

She looked up. "And you know this is John's ticket record for sure. How?"

Harold smiled from ear to ear and tapped repeatedly on the pages. "Check the last page, Detective. You didn't look at the last page."

She turned to the last page, and at the bottom half of the listed itinerary, in grid for, was the name and address of a Mr. JOHN WARREN, along with a grainy picture of him on his fake New York State driving license. 'John Warren' was one of a number of aliases Joss knew that he used to move through the city efficiently without threat of detection and blown cover.

"John Warren has always been the alias that most closely resembled John's actual identity, so I used it to create this license, as well as other identifying documents, should the need have arisen for them. He made this one concession to creating a paper trail, and though it took some time, I was able to obtain this from the Greyhound Bus Company's own mainframe servers."

"Of course," Joss said, fully in detective mode. "It makes complete sense. John didn't want to leave a paper trail—but since the War on Terror began, federal law has required that every passenger traveling on any kind of interstate public transportation must provide proper identification documents in order to be sold tickets for that purpose, even if paying with cash, at the counter. And that information gets recorded in the issuing transport company's database for a period of some time. They aren't nearly as sticky about it as an airport would be, but they're required to ask. Sometimes they don't. Looks like the day John left, they asked."

"Detective, your skills of deduction remain as impressive as ever. Exactly. And if John was eager enough to put as much distance between himself and New York as he could, he'd have weighed the pros and cons carefully, before deciding that such a con, in this case, was worth the risk."

Joss nodded. And since so much time had passed, it would appear that it had been worth that risk. Wherever he was now, he hadn't been disturbed by anyone in New York; he wouldn't have had to deal with any fallout for just taking off like that, no matter how many loose ends he'd left in his wake.

It was at this point that Joss' eyes narrowed at Harold, a somewhat suspicious gleam evident in their depths. She'd run into him here after months of no contact, where he'd proceeded to sit her down, tell her that John was out of the city, where he might be alternatively, and that, despite his words of reassurance, that, essentially, she was the reason why he was gone. What she wanted to know now was why he had ultimately gone to all this trouble, given the circumstances.

As he had been all that time, Harold was perceptive. But he decided to let her take the lead. "Something on your mind, Detective?"

"You might say that, Harold. Getting me down here and taking me on a trip through memory lane with John Reese hasn't been the point of all this, has it?" He'd wanted her there for a purpose, a specific purpose. He'd wanted her to _do_ something. But what?

Harold held a pregnant pause and pursed his lips together. He looked down at his hands again.

"Choose my words carefully. That's what you said at the start of this, isn't it, Detective? Well—there really is no careful, tactful way to address you with this, for I fear that, when it comes to Mr. Reese, I rather find that, surprisingly, I lose all objectivity. At this point, after so much time not really knowing what his fate might be, I'm afraid I'm rather…desperate, Detective."

Her gaze never let up on him. And he knew that this was the moment of reckoning. "Try me, Finch," she said in that tone and address of old.

Out of the same pocket he'd fished the receipts from, he slowly pulled out another envelope. This one contained an itinerary for a flight—to Denver, Colorado.

"This is an online booking in your name, Detective. All the arrangements have been made, including lodging, rental car, and spending allowance. It's a standby date at this point, of course, but all the same, ready and available when necessary. He laid the envelope down on the table in front of her, next to the photo of John and his parents.

Joss looked at him, stunned, not sure that where this was heading was such a good place. "Harold? What—what are you asking me, exactly?"

"Go, Detective. Please. Go to Colorado, find Mr. Reese—and bring him home."

**A/N: So Finch has laid down his sword. What will Joss' reaction be, her answer? Big decision to make!**

**A note about Finch's recall of events in "Baby Blue": I don't know what everyone's feelings were on Joss' reaction to John dealing with Elias, but I always thought she had a valid point about him going it all alone like that, so I made a nod to it from Finch's perspective here, as I did from Joss' in the flashback of Chapter One. I may be in the minority, I realize, but that's how the cookie rolls, I guess, haha!**

**In any case, if you dig the story thus far (or not), please give a holler, and be sure to stay tuned, as usual. Thanks, guys!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/****N: So, Finch continues to make his pitch to Joss. She fights him on it (cuz it's Joss and she's stubborn, you know), but he has made an impression. Whether she decides to go or not, one positive to come out this is that their relationship has been rekindled. Good friends and acquaintances like Harold and Joss shouldn't lose touch forever! **

**Thanks once more for the indulgence, friends. Much appreciation. Enjoy! **

"Excuse me?" Joss exclaimed, her mouth open, her eyes wide in incredulity. "You want me to go where and do what?"

"Detective, I realize the irony involved in me suddenly asking you to track down a man who not-so-suddenly left town on us, but I really can't think of any other solution to our dilemma."

Joss wrinkled her nose. _"Our _dilemma, Harold? Just who are you talking about? An hour ago, I hadn't spoken to you in months, nor John. And out of the blue, you want me to drop everything here, to go on a potentially wild goose chase to Colorado, to look for a man who more than likely doesn't want to be found. Why can't _you _go? Or Fusco? You two want to get him back so badly."

Harold frowned. "Detective, was I wrong to assume that you still care about John and his well-being?"

"Oh, don't you even go there, Harold. Of course, I care about John, deeply I do, but I have responsibilities here that you don't. My job. My _son. _That was a major reason I cut the tie in the first place. The possibility that my working with you could somehow be a threat to my relationship with my child if it were ever discovered. My boy needs his mother. I'm already feeling guilty that I'm not there for him as much as I should be, especially as a single parent. And now this? You're asking a hell of a lot, Harold."

"I realize that, Detective. And if you do agree to this, know that Taylor will be well-looked after. While my experience with teenagers is even more limited than it is with infants, the few times I have been able to spend time with Taylor have been most rewarding. He posseses a rigorous intellect, and comports himself in a manner that is strikingly mature for a young man his age. You've done a fine job with him, Detective."

"Thank you, Harold. But that's just it. He seems fine and composed, but I know he isn't all the time. The split between his father and me has been hard on him. I've been trying to compensate, protect him as much as I can. He needs his father, but I've had to be both. I can't just drop that, no matter how much I miss John-though I appreciate your offer to play 'Uncle Harold' for a spell."

Finch grinned at her, a beaming grin that caused her in turn to pout. "Did I say something funny?"

"Oh, forgive me, Detective, it's just that I have been reminded of one of the little talks he and I had from last year, around the time when I first met him. The subject of discussion came around to this very topic, interestingly enough."

"Oh, really? Do tell."

"Well, Detective, I suppose that it would do no harm to reveal the nature of our conversation now, a year on, so I must confess that Taylor was rather forthcoming in his feelings about his life-and about you, Detective."

"Mmmhmm, I'm listening."

"Well, yes, Detective, of course." If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was stammering. "It 's just that...well...Taylor seemed to feel that you were a little...overprotective of him, Detective. I suppose that's natural for a young man of his age to feel that way, but I, of course, reminded him just how fortunate he was to have you be so concerned for his welfare."

"Oh, of course you did, Harold. And nice try." But the concern crease still made its appearance between her brow. "Taylor really said that?"

"Yes, Detective, in so many words. Perhaps a little time away, a break, might be good for you both, Detective."

"Right, Harold. I'm sure that's what you think. But I still don't like leaving him to go halfway across country like this. And where the hell would I even start? If John's even still there, Colorado is huge. And full of wild animals. With teeth. I'm a tiny little black woman raised in the city all my life. Those characteristics don't mesh very well, from where I sit."

"But I have faith in you, Detective. With your problem solving skills-not to mention your own military track record-you are more than cut out for this job. I can't think of anyone else better suited for it."

Joss sighed. "Harold, there's more to it than that, and you know it. I-I'm part-I'm part of the reason why John left in the first place. If he sees me come up in his face, demanding that he come back here, a place loaded with all kinds of bad memories for him, what do you think he's going to do? You really want me to face his wrath, alone, on foreign territory? Come on, Harold."

And there they had arrived at the true source of Joss' apprehension. Of course, she was concerned about Taylor's welfare, as any wonderful mother like Joss would be, and Harold was indeed sympathetic to those concerns. But he knew that she knew well and good that if she took this trip, Taylor could practically take care of himself at his age, that he'd be fine, particularly since he'd had such a good teacher in her. No, that wasn't it. Nor was it the threat of bears and wolves in the wilderness. It was John she was afraid of. More importantly, the possibility that he would reject her as she'd rejected him all those months ago.

Harold smiled again, a serene, satisfied smile. "That won't happen, Detective. Not if I know John-and how he feels about you."

"Oh, I bet it would. You didn't see him the day we ended things. Went stone rigid, cold on me. I don't blame him for that-but it wasn't the best experience to go through."

"Detective, trust me. John won't be disparaging if he sees you again. He's rather fond of you. Rather fond."

Joss raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, is that so? And how would you know this, especially after six months of no contact?"

"Because I knew how fond of you he was when he was still here, though it wasn't anything we openly discussed. When you got mixed up in the manipulative machinations of Mark Snow and John was seriously injured as a result, I must admit I was reluctant to have anything more to do with you at that time, Detective. The risk, much as you said in this case, I felt was much too great."

Joss lowered her head. "I'll never forgive myself for leading Snow to John. I didn't know. He could've died because of me."

"But he didn't, Detective. You were actually more instrumental in saving John's life than ending it. And throughout his recovery, he couldn't stop worrying about _you._ He repeatedly asked me to keep an eye on you, to look after you, for him. He knew how I felt about your involvement and what had happened-and yet, he insisted. It was then that I began to understand just how much he cared about you. Not even the threat to your own life at the hands of your CI put it all in place for me. But that did. And that's not something easy for John to let show." He shook his head. "No, Detective, he wouldn't reject your presence. I'd swear on a judge's gavel by that."

"Make sure that gavel hasn't been dipped in dirt first, Harold, and I can believe you." She smiled.

"Understood, Detective. How has the campaign against HR been faring?"

Her eyebrow raised again. "You don't know? I thought you knew everything, Harold."

"As I said, Detective, I haven't been all that present since John's departure. And with him gone, my efforts on behalf of the city have also been sharply curtailed. I can't say much more than that, I'm afraid."

"Ever the secretive one, hmm, Finch? Some things never change. Well, HR is HR. We're doing the best we can, those of us who aren't on the take. But it's always a struggle to keep it together. Speaking of which," she said, looking at her watch, "Fusco must be tearing at his hair waiting for his food order. I better take care of that and get going."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Detective. I took the liberty of ordering Detective Fusco's lunch for him before I arrived. He should be well and truly replenished by now. However, you have not had that privilege yet, Detective Carter, and for that, I am to blame. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to buy you lunch now, for your indulgence of me?"

Joss grinned. Sure thing, Harold. So long as you eat with me!"

"Oh, I think that could be arranged. Suddenly, I find myself in the mood for Marl's famous Pesto n Pizza pasta. An absolutely scandalous path towards a coronary disaster, for sure, but indeed, it is to die for." He snapped for a waitress, ordered for them both, and took a sip of the complimentary ice water the waitress left upon taking the orders, his grin, hidden behind the rim of the glass tentative, careful-but undeniable. And in light of the major headway he believed he'd made, unstoppable.

##

Joss and Harold exited Marl's after another hour or so of food, drinks, and good talk, most of it memories and perceptions of John. There was no more attempt on Harold's part to try and persuade Joss to accept the mission laid out before her-at least not blatantly. Joss wasn't the kind of woman who was to be pushed into anything, but she hadn't completely shut him down from the start, which he saw as a positive sign. However, that didn't translate into a firm commitment, either. That was fine though; in truth, he was genuinely glad just to sit and have this time with her after so long apart. It made him feel better, made the warm sunshine of that late spring day give him the hopeful feeling that it was expected to. But now, it was time to depart.

"Harold, thank you. Lunch was delicious, and it was wonderful seeing you again. But, as for the other thing...I still don't know. I'd really, really have to think about this. Can you see that?"

Harold's large blue eyes were watery with understanding. "Of course, Detective. I know that this is asking a lot, but if there was anybody in this world that could get John home again, it's you. And you know, when you think about it, for such a fine yet private specimen of a man as John Reese is, the fact that you indeed do affect him so deeply, despite whatever bad blood has passed between you, is a none too shabby distinction, Detective."

Joss smirked shyly, while allowing her mind to wander, just for a second. "No need to remind me how fine he is, Harold."

They both laughed, with Harold blushing shamelessly as he realized the meaning behind her comment. "Err, no, that wasn't the 'fine' I was referring to, Detective, but I see your point! Very good! He is quite the handsome devil, isn't he?"

"Yes, Harold. Yes, he is."

The two paused for a beat before pulling one another into a hearty and heartfelt embrace, their very first. She wouldn't have thought of Harold as the affectionate type, at least not openly, and even then she sensed just a touch of awkwardness in his body as he held her-but then, there were his injuries to consider. She returned the affection all the same.

While holding her, Harold reached into his pocket. "If you decide to do this, or not, do be sure to let me know, after you've had your time to think. You know where to reach me."

What he had in his hand was her old burner phone, still intact, just as she remembered it. John must have given it to him the day it all ended. She stared at it for several seconds, a rush of memories flooding her mind, sensations flooding her body. She remembered the danger, the excitement of being aligned with these two crazy guys who worked outside the law to do what the law often failed to do.

She remembered John's soft voice as it came through the cables, his "hello, Detective," his teasing-his mild flirting-all of them as real to her now as the phone Harold held in his hand.

He noticed her hesitation. "Detective? Are you all right?"

"Yeah...yeah, Harold, I'm fine," she said, as she slowly reached up and took the phone from him. "Listen, I have to get back to the precinct. I'm glad we had a chance to talk. And yeah," she said, shaking the phone to make a point of it, "I'll be in touch, one way or the other."

"Thank you, Detective. For everything. Really."

"You're welcome, Harold. Bye now." She left him standing there, with a kiss on the cheek, the burner phone still in her hand. Harold watched her go, pensively, his blue eyes wide as her figure diminished ever more in the throngs of people going about their day.

"Yes, Detective. You'll definitely be in touch. Of that I have no doubt."

##

On her way back to the 8th, Joss placed the burner phone in her pocket and took out her regular phone.

"Detective Fusco," the voiced sounded on the other end.

"How was your lunch, Lionel?"

"Carter! Hey, where the hell are you? You been gone for hours. Lunch was great, by the way. Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me. I didn't buy it. But you know that. And you also know where I've been, and with whom, Fusco. You could have just said something, you know."

"Yeah...about that. Glasses made me promise not to. He didn't want to take a chance on you not meeting him if you knew it was him-and what the reason was. Sorry, honey."

"Yeah, well, I don't like deception, Fusco so that wasn't cool. But...it was nice to be around Harold for a little while."

"Soooo...does this mean you're gonna do it? You're gonna go and try to find John?"

"I didn't say that. Not to him, and not to you. Listen, I'm almost back at the 8th, I'll see you when I get there. Bye, Fusco."

She didn't wait for his response. The time with Harold had been extensive, so she was eager to get back to the station. There were other matters to attend to-even if Harold's request was the only thing she'd be likely to think about for the rest of the shift.

##

"He's right, Carter. You are the best one for this. You're the one that can get him back."

Joss grimmaced in her cup of coffee, as much for its bad brew as for Fusco's reiteration of Harold's pitch to her. "Oh, are you gonna tell it's because of how 'fond' John is of me, too? Harold must be out of his damn mind with that one."

Fusco cocked his head as he perched himself atop her desk. " Whoa, not so fast, Carter. As a matter of fact, I am gonna tell you the same thing. Because it's true. Glasses may be a mad genius, but he ain't out of his mind. You know, I see a lot of things people don't think I do. I don't often say anything, but I see very clearly. Not blind, you know. And one of the things I saw was that Wonderboy was nuts about you. Odds to rights that he still is."

Joss let blow a small puff of air from her cheeks. "Oh, come on, Lionel. Be serious. John and I were friends. That's all. He never once made the slightest move towards me in that way. And I never did him. Case closed. Yes, he and I Iiked and respected each other, cared about each other, but again, that's all. Nice try, though."

Fusco leaned over a little closer, so as to not make their talk the entertainment for the whole station. "I'm not trying anything, Carter. I'm dead serious. Wonderboy had a real thing for you. Just because you were too busy-or too scared-to realize it doesn't mean it wasn't so."

"And how would you know?"

"Because I know. You know, I may come off as gruff around the edges, and that's okay, but I'm sophisticated enough to know what it is to find a beautiful woman attractive. A beautiful, intelligent, sensitive woman with a heart of gold and high standards. And I saw the way he'd look at you. He didn't do much to hide it, either, even if he didn't try anything."

"And how did he used to look at me, Fusco?" she partly scoffed, partly grinned.

"Like you were the only woman in the world, Carter. Like he was ready, willing, and able to lay down his life for you at any moment. Like, if you asked him to, he'd hand you the world on a plate." And, an even lower voice, leaning closer, "Like a horny teenaged boy who'd never had it before. Yeah, like that."

Joss was stunned at what Fusco was telling her. It couldn't be. They were friends, partners in bringing down the bad guys. Occasionally, they'd have a beer and commiserate on life, past relationships, single parenting. He had saved her life. She'd betrayed him and then helped save his. He'd met her son and they hit it off famously. She trusted him completely. But anything more than that? That was crazy. Wasn't it?

"That-that doesn't make sense. I would've known..."

"Well, again, you may have been too busy to notice. Or too scared. Wonderboy is pretty intense. I can see how being the object of desire for that guy could be scary. Maybe too much to handle? I don't know, Carter. But I do know that he was hellbent on making you a priority. 'Lionel,' he used to say when I first fell in with him, 'Carter's a good cop, a good person. A damn fine woman. She's in danger, in all directions, at all times. Too many enemies because she is all that. She's important to me. I want you to keep an eye on her. I want her kept safe, Lionel. And if she isn't, If anything happens to her, I'm coming after you.' That's what he said to me. Even though you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and would have resented a big slob like me being your shadow. He knew that, too, so he didn't want me letting on, either."

"Yeah, couple that with the fact that you were working for HR, no, I totally wouldn't appreciated that."

"Yeah, he got me outta that, even if Simmons and all don't know that. I'll always be grateful to him."

Joss frowned in sympathy. "You miss him, too, don't you?"

A touch of sadness flashed across Lionel's eyes. "More than I can say. More than I ever thought I would. Crazy, isn't it? I should be glad. This is like a vacation. But-yeah, I miss him. Place hasn't been the same without him."

"Yeah, Fusco. I know. Believe me. But I don't know if I should do this. I mean, what if he doesn't want to be found? And even if, there's no guarentee he'd come back with me."

"Well, Carter, I want John back, I do. But I can't tell you what to do, darlin'. Whatever you decide, though, I'm behind you a hundred percent. Still doing what he asked me to do, see."

Joss smiled and patted him on the thigh. " You sure are, Fusco. Thank you."

"Back to work, then?"

"Yep. If I'm lucky, I can get out of here in time for dinner at home. There's at least one more person I need to talk to before I make a decision about this whole thing."

"Sounds like a plan, Carter. Remember, I got your back."

Lionel stood and returned to his desk, leaving Joss to stare at a computer screen for a few contemplative moments before tapping in her password and getting back to police business. Before that happened, however, she took a detour to her personnel page, which detailed such important information as pay grade, tax reports, attendance-and most importantly, the mountain of vacation time she had stored up. At the staggering amount, she cupped her chin in her palms and took a deep breath.

_Well, scratch not having enough time off from my list of excuses for not doing this. Jesus, Joss. Even if you don't go to Colorado, you need to go somewhere._

She flipped her screen and became a cop again, the burner phone resting in her pocket. She'd let Finch know her plans by the end of the next day.

**A/N: An earful for Joss about John's feelings for her, at least according to Finch and Fusco. And yes, John's love is intense. But Carter knew that he cared for her, and she him, so it shouldn't have been such a surprise if his potentially more-than-friends feelings were there. Up next, Joss talks to Taylor, does some thinking, and gives Finch an answer. Please leave comment if you think this is cool so far (or not), and thanks again for reading. Almost back to where I was originally. Yay!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Finch remains ever hopeful-and confident-he got through to Joss, while Joss has that very important conversation with the most important person in her life. We're moving along, kids. Enjoy, enjoy!**

The rest of the afternoon and early evening was a whirlwind of police business, but for Joss, it still seemed to take forever for her shift to end. Luckily, there was no case, no lead, that couldn't wait until tomorrow for her to attend to it. It meant she could get out of there when she'd planned to, and finally talk to her son about what Finch had asked her to do.

She closed up her files, shut down her computer, and tidied up other areas of her desk before hitting the lights and waving off a few of her colleagues, who would be burning the midnight oil well into the dawn. Lionel had left hours before, but not without shooting her a wink and an offer to talk more if she needed it. Since John's departure, he had become her convo buddy, sometimes doing so into the late hours, just as had been the case with John. This time, though, she assured him that she'd be okay.

The plan was to grab a few must-haves from the grocery store, head home, put on her "play clothes" and get supper started for them both. She was intent on making his favorites tonight anyway: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cornbread, and mixed green salad. Well, the mixed greens were her idea, but Taylor had always been good about eating his veggies, even as a pre schooler, so she was glad that she didn't have to twist his arm-even if raddichio wasn't the first thing in the fridge he'd reach for.

Out of the swivel doors and into the parking lot, Joss popped her car door locks and got in. She sat for a few seconds in the driver seat, a quick glance at herself taken from the rearview mirror. She looked tired, the hollows under her eyes sporting hollows. Hell, she _felt _tired.

_Yes, Jocelyn. You definitely could do with a vacation somewhere. You got the time, now just get the place. _

Somehow, though, she hadn't pictured 'Rocky Mountain High' as that place, not for her. But hey, John or no John, it was somewhere she'd never been, and she'd always said she wanted to see more of America, having served her for two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. As good a place as any.

_"_Whoa, whoa, Joss. Slow your roll," she said aloud. "Get home, get your kid fed. See where you are. Don't pack your bags just yet."

##

Finch returned to the library after his meeting with Joss and a few errands, still buoyed, still hopeful, more hopeful, in fact, than he had been in months. For he knew. He knew she was going to go. Of course, she hadn't officially agreed to anything as of yet-but he knew she would. It was only a question of how long he'd have to wait before the following day's end. He smiled as he sat down at his desk. Things were falling into place. For the first time in months he could feel the juices of potential flow through his body.

And it was as he'd told Joss. It really had only been within the past few days that the tide turned enough for him to believe that the impossible was indeed possible. The winter had been bleaker than usual, lonelier, less...noisy. He realized that he'd never stopped to think about how noisy working life with Mr. Reese was-and how thrilling, how glorious it had all been. That noisiness. It was blood. It was life. It was part of the purpose behind the numbers. And it was long overdue that he, that the city, got that back again.

The moment John stepped on that Greyhound Bus, everything changed. It was as if he took the energy of the city with him, at least their special corner of it. And it wasn't just the effect on the crime rate and his friends left behind that was so severe.

The Machine faltered too. Until the moment came when Harold couldn't make contact, make connection, at all with his creation. First, it slowed on giving numbers; the ones Harold got he passed on to Fusco on the odd end occasion. He had some success in nabbing a few perps and stopping threats, but he was no John Reese. It took a toll on him, the dual crime fighting gigs-which was fine, because after a while, there weren't any crimes to fight, at least not as far as where the Machine stood. One day, a month or so into John's disappearance, the numbers just stopped coming all together. Finch knew that it wasn't due to crime suddenly taking a holiday; wishful thinking was nice, but in a city like New York life and death was a way of life. The Machine was created with Artificial Intelligence. Perhaps somewhere along the line, Harold's interventions allowed the Machine to develop the emotions to go with it as well.

The Machine missed John too.

As Harold's further withdrawal took place over the weeks and then months, so did the Machine's. On many occasions, Harold couldn't even turn on the computer, error messages the only output he received. And if he could, it ran either slowly, frustrating him, or erratically fast, memory run down to a near standstill, frustrating him even more. In both instances, Harold would be attempting to find out information of even the smallest kind on Mr. Reese and his possible location. But the Machine wouldn't budge. No leads, nothing. Either it didn't know how to find John, or...it was angry. Angry at Harold for letting him go, for allowing the hurt and despair John was going through at losing Leila and Joss to make him go.

It was possible, wasn't it? He had created the Machine with so many nods towards human nature as he understood it, that such a prospect couldn't be overruled. But one thing he did know for certain was that, as those days and weeks passed into months, as the dark winter raged and howled on through New York, giving way to spring thaw, that neither one of them could go on like this anymore.

A few days before his meeting with Joss, he sat in front of the screen and turned on the computer system. It was doing it's usual erratic dance. Input/output error messages, blanking screens, abrupt shutdowns, where only a few minutes later it would power on again to display Spider Solitaire screens at him, all the cards in the deck thrown up at once.

But on this day, he'd had enough. After a few minutes of silent fury at the Machine's continued bad behavior, Harold slammed down on top of the desk.

"_Stop it!" _he shouted. "_Stop it now!"_

The Spider Solitaire screens stopped their repeated loop. The Machine's whizzing, beeping, and screen shifting ceased as well. Harold stared at it, wide-eyed, a tear threatening to spill from his eye.

"I know. _I KNOW. _He's gone. You miss him terribly. We both do. But I'm afraid this can't go on."

The computer drive lights all stood still, as if at attention, the hum of circuits steady. The Machine was listening.

Harold leaned in closer, his eyes wider still. "You want me to find him and bring him back?"

The lights on the drives flashed twice rapidly. While it was perfectly capable of using printed speech on screen, that was not to be now. That happened when it was fully functional. This was not that time.

"Then, help me! Help me find him, for God's sake. I want him back, too, but I can't do this alone. _Please, help me!"_

The Machine remained quiet, still "breathing" steadily. After several moments, Harold got up and limped to a window, with a dejected face and a sigh. It was no use. Perhaps he'd become too dependent on his creation, expected too much from it. And if Mr. Reese didn't want to be tracked down, he knew enough about how the Machine functioned in order to keep that from happening. It was possible that it quite simply could not know where the man was.

And then, Harold went back to his desk to turn the switches off once more, but what he saw gave him such pause he didn't realize that, until a slight wave of dizziness hit him, that he had been holding his breath in awe of the image before him.

Bus tickets. Greyhound Bus ticket screen caps were displayed on all the monitors with John's picture, as captured by the license he used with the alias 'John Warren.' Travel itinerary, method of payment, dates, it was all there. Finch leaned in close again, eyes wide, and, after a moment, was stunned by the realization he made.

"Of course...of course. Why didn't this cross my mind sooner? "

He scrambled over to the wooden file cabinet where he'd wisely decided to keep a hardcopy file of of his early search histories for John. There, he found what he was looking for to match up with the information the Machine provided on screen. Once his hunch of a hunch was confirmed, he quickly got on the phone to contact Lionel at the precinct. He had a plan, but he'd need the stalwart detective's help in pulling it off.

"Detective Fusco? Harold Finch."

Lionel giggled upon answering the phone. "Yeah, I know who you are, Glasses. What's up? You sound like you've been running from something. But I know better, so..."

Harold ignored the quip. "Listen, I desperately need your help in getting a meeting set up with Detective Carter. After all these months of cold contact, I don't know that she'd want to see me of her own choice, so I'd sort of have to see her, initially, under false pretenses. Then, we'd see from there. Can you do that?"

"Erm, I could, but why should I, my friend? I'd need a good reason to pull the wool over Carter's eyes, even lightly. I gotta work with her everyday. What's going on?"

"It concerns Mr. Reese, Detective."

Lionel took a deep breath into the phone. "Does it now? All right, Glasses, talk."

"I think I might know where he is, Detective. And if we have any chance of getting him back with us again, it is absolutely imperative that we have Detective Carter's help."

And that is how they ended up spending a good few hours at Marl's Deli, talking all things John, the push-and-pull of negotiation between them a simple, yet wonderful, chess game between old friends.

And now, all he had to do was wait. He knew she was home now, and suspected that she was soon to be going over things with Taylor. Speaking of which, he should probably get to work on readying one of the safe houses for his impending visit with those things a teenaged boy in this day and age would enjoy, minus the girls, of course. In gratitude for his mother's sacrifice, he'd be most certain to show the boy one hell of a good time.

##

"Taylor? Dinner's ready. Come on here and help set the table."

Joss' son didn't have to be called twice. She had made his faves, after all, and he was starving-even if he'd had a snack of cereal and milk when he got home from school.

"Hi, Ma. Give me the plates." he said, after bounding into the kitchen. "I'll come back for the utensils and glasses."

Joss smiled. "Luckily for you, there are only two places to set."

Taylor went to the dining room with the plates while Joss readied the food. This was the time she lived for, dinner with her boy, since police work was so demanding. If a case was particularly hot, she could go days without sit down dinner time, homework time, all of it. She had been glad that today had not turned into one of those days.

Taylor returned for the other table items and went back to the dining room, but not before giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, mommy, for making my favorite dinner. I promise to eat my salad, too. All of it." he teased. She swatted at him with a dish towel before following him with the platter of chicken.

When the dining room table had been fully prepared, they sat down to eat. Joss said a short prayer of thanks for their bounty, and they dug in. Unfortunately, Taylor was just a little too gregarious, though.

"Uh, no, Taylor Carter. _One _piece to start. And really, I cooked the chicken, can I have a piece, too, please? Greedy boy..."

Taylor laughed. "Sorry, ma. But hey, you should be glad. I'm not a picky eater. And you make the best fried chicken I've ever had, next to grandma. I'm telling you, catering business, ma. Much safer than being a cop."

He was on that catering kick again. Bugging her and her mother to go into business together making dinners for the neighborhood. Though she was proud of her skills in the kitchen, she wasn't cut out for the cooking business.

"Boy, what did I tell you? No catering business. Now, eat."

"Aww, man, ma. You're stealing my inheritance from me, I hope you know that."

"You'll make do on a cop's pension just fine, when you get it. Oh, and whatever little chump change I get from the military. That will be your inheritance, and you'll like it." She laughed.

"Aww, ma, you're killing me. But these mashed potatoes are bangin' so I guess I'll live."

"Yeah, I guess you will, baby." She figured now was a good time to broach the subject of Finch's request, since they were now settled and relaxed at the table. _Just go for broke, Joss, _she told herself.

"Taylor, baby, I need to talk to you about something." She put her fork down and folded her hands, looking down in her lap first before returning her gaze across the small dining room table towards her son.

Forgetting his manners, he spoke through a gob of chicken and potatoes. "I already know how babies are made, ma. Thanks, anyway."

"Yeah, but apparently you haven't learned how not to talk with your mouth full. Chew and swallow first."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry. Okay. What's up?"

"Taylor, I may need to go out of town for a few weeks. It's...it's a case I'm working on, and two big leads are out of the jurisdiction."

"Really? Wow, that must be big. Murder case?" he asked.

"Well, hopefully not. More like...missing person case."

"Gee, ma, you have all the fun, huh? Where would you have to go?"

"Colorado, baby. The leads are in Colorado. I've been in contact with a source who has evidence that the trail runs there."

"_Colorado? _Geez, ma, you wasn't lyin' when you said 'out of the jurisdiction.' So, a couple of weeks, huh?"

"Yes, sweetie. But you know, if that's too long for you to not see me, or you think you might have trouble, I don't have to go. I can get someone else to fill in for me. It's 'my'...case, but that is possible..."

"Well, does Grandma know?"

"Why? What's grandma got to do with this?"

"Well, where would I stay? I'm not legal yet to be here alone for two weeks."

"And you know better than to think I'd let you do that, anyway. Actually, an old friend offered to look out for you while I'm gone. Do you remember Mr. Finch?"

Taylor's eyes brightened. "Sure I do! The gazillionaire with the glasses. Friends with that badass guy who can fight real good. What was his name? John something or other? Yeah, he's great, too." Taylor's brow creased with mild perplexity. "You want me to stay with him?"

"Yeah...yeah, I spoke with him the other day, and he offered to let you stay with him, while I was away. He's rich, just as you said, and he's got a penthouse at Central Park. He'd make sure you got to school each day in a fancy ride, if you wanted, as much food as you can shove down free, computers, video games..."

"Yeah, yeah, ma, I know all about Mr. Finch's fancy apartment. He's got them all over the city. Just needed a reminder. Sold. Go to Colorado. Take me to Mr. Finch's place."

Joss laughed heartily. That son of hers! "Well, hold on, it's not right now. Arrangements would need to be made. And I'm still not sure I want to leave you here while I'm halfway across the country. I'd be worried..."

"Ma, look, I'm a big boy now. You wouldn't need to worry. Mr. Finch is cool, very cool, and besides, it'd be good for you to get out of here for a change. I love New York, but it can suffocate you if you're not careful. Colorado is all about the great outdoors, the fresh air. You could use that. Besides, you're often much more likely to get taken away from me here-permanently-than you would be out there. I know that's what you're worried about. And yet, everyday, you wear your badge and get it done. And here we are. So it's all good."

Joss stared at her son, with a glint of a tear in her eye. He had grown up somehow, into a young man, full of wisdom and good sense. When did that happen?

She let go of a sigh. "Thank you, Taylor. Food for thought. Now, maybe you better finish your food before it gets too cold."

"Oh you know me, ma, I don't care. Good, good, good all the time! Cornbread, mmmm!"

Joss laughed again, and suddenly the nervous tension she'd been feeling was completely gone. Her boy was good for that. Even as a little guy, no one could make her laugh more than he could.

After dinner, when all the dishes had been cleared and washed, and leftovers put away, Taylor decided to take his dessert of banana pudding to his room to finish up the last of his homework and then get to bed. Joss passed on dessert and just got ready for bed. Putting on a cotton nightgown after scrubbing face and brushing teeth, she climbed into bed with the intention of reading. But her conversation with Taylor kept that from happening.

"_Look, ma, I'm a big boy now. You wouldn't need to worry."_

_"Colorado is all about the great outdoors, the fresh air. You could use that."_

Finally, she gave up the ghost and gave up the book, some tawdry romance thing she found at the Strand bargin bin for two bucks.

"I must, must be crazy. I have to be crazy. This whole thing is crazy..." she said, feeling her heart pound in her chest as if it would explode. She got out of bed and began to pace, running a hand through her loosely twisted locks. Finally, she stopped pacing, her hands landing on her hips. Her head turned in the direction of her closet, where both her suitcases and the burner phone Finch had returned to her were. Swallowing hard, she hesitated for just a second more, before racing towards the closet, opening it, and fumbling around in her purse for the burner phone.

She didn't need to wait until the close of tomorrow afternoon. She had made a decision.

Upon dialing Finch's number, he answered calmly, _knowingly. _"Yes, Detective Carter?"

"Okay. Okay. I'll go. I will go to Colorado to find our John. And, if he's willing, bring him back here. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Good night, Harold."

She closed the phone, before she changed her mind, put it on her nightstand, flipped the light, and soon drifted off to sleep. The face she saw in the dark before that happened? John Reese's, of course. He was smiling at her. She smiled too. And then, she was still.

**A**/**N**: **Well, leave it to the kid to put it all in perspective. Of course, Taylor just wants to hang with Finch. And who wouldn't? I'd love a chance to have with a billionaire genius too. A genius who can't stand Spider Solitaire, haha! **

**So, Joss is heading out on an adventure, but will she be in for more than even she has bargained for? We'll see! Oh, and the time to drop in on our favorite vigilante is rapidly approaching, fear not. Joss had to get her butt in gear first, but hot Johnny is on the horizon! Please drop a line on this latest, and keep the reading light on. Thank you**!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: We move, for this part of our story, to a large cabin, just outside Golden, Colorado.**

"Oh...oh...oh...yes...yes...God...oohhhhhh...ohhhhohoh...damn..."

The young, fresh-faced blonde expressed her climax ardently, confidently, which in turn allowed her lover the freedom to do so as well, and following suit, he grunted, then groaned his release into her willing body, moving inside her rapidly until the spasms of orgasm slowed and his breathing decelerated to normal levels. He clutched at her midriff, holding her as if his life depended on it, spent, and collapsed atop her.

"Wow," she said, laughing, her smile lighting up her skin. "That was fantastic. Better than last time, even, and I thought nothing could top that! Whew..." She was breathless, the rise and fall of her creamy breasts and belly underneath him tantalizing, bewitching, but as pleasurable as her body was, he knew his peace with her was short-lived. As soon as they turned over to sleep, the dreams would come again. The horrible dreams of his life from before. Of violence and death. Of the never-ending violence and death.

And of a helpless little redheaded baby, sweetness personified, that he'd let down, that he'd betrayed in the worst way possible.

And of a woman, a beautiful black woman with a police badge and big, soft brown eyes, eyes full of tears and recrimination. Eyes full of pain and disappointment. Eyes he loved dearly, but that had looked _that_ way at him. Even now, after all these months apart from her, it was still a two-punch to the guts.

"Good night, Jenni," he said quietly, pulling out of her and turning over, his breathing labored, but not excessively so. "You're beautiful. I hope that helps you rest well." He pushed a loose lock of hair off his sweat-beaded brow and settled in. The light of his fireplace illuminated the sprawling room, looming shadows bending and dancing across the walls just before dusk transformed itself into night.

"Well, I'm not the one with the nightmares, John, so maybe I should say that to you. Did you have one again last night?" She reached out to put her arms around him, kissing his shoulders and back. She was still too giddy, as she'd been since they first time they made love, too oblivious to the fact that he always turned his back to her after he was finished.

John reached for her hand and clutched it affectionately. He turned over and kissed her briefly, before moving away and getting out of his pullout sofa bed to slowly walk towards the cabin window across from it. Looking out, he stared straight ahead, not really seeing the golden clouds of sunset rolling across the open sky, nor the rolling hills and streams in the distance that gave such unspoiled natural beauty to the place.

"John? Did you?"

"Did I what, Jenni?" he asked quietly, almost absentmindedly.

"Have another dream last night?"

"Uhh...yeah. Yeah, I did. The same one."

"And why didn't you call me?" she asked calmly, now getting out of bed, her nakedness an afterthought. Her long blonde hair swung gently about her body as she approached him at the window.

"Didn't want to disturb you. Didn't think it necessary. You have responsibilities that don't include me." She was welcome to pick any one of those reasons as to why he didn't call her. But the truth was that he'd had a solution for fighting back the demons in the dark already, one she didn't approve of and one she wasn't, even with her warm, womanly body, as strong of a remedy as.

Jenni was slightly crestfallen. "Oh. And I suppose you managed to get help with driving it away this time from that stuff, huh?" She pointed to the near-empty bottle of rum on the kitchen table across from them. "Dammit, John, that's no answer! I wish you could see that. Maybe...maybe you should talk to someone. Tell a professional what you told me about these dreams of the baby...and the woman with her. Remember my old psych professor that I mentioned a few weeks ago? Maybe he actually could help. Now, he only teaches at the community college, but he knows his stuff. We still keep in touch. I could set something up if you want-"

John halfheartedly swatted at the air in dismissal, and walked back to the bed. His lean naked body not showing the effects, remarkably, of the amount of booze he'd packed away over the past few months. Maybe since he didn't binge everyday, that made a difference. He had always been the kind of hard drinker that could turn it off when he wanted to, never letting it get to be such a habit that he couldn't function as his work at the Agency, and then afterwards with Finch and the numbers, required. The only thing now was that those duties were no longer his, and he didn't have the obligation to turn it off, nor did he much feel like doing so. No, the binges didn't happen everyday-but they happened often enough to worry her, he knew.

Her "psych" professor couldn't do a damn thing for him, and he'd see the inside of a cold grave first before he became mere gossip fodder for some small-town lightweight dabbling in human behavior studies. He was somewhat heartened that she was concerned about him enough to make the suggestion, however.

"No, it's okay. I don't need to talk to anyone. I'm handling it."

"No. No, you aren't, John. Look, I don't want to come here and find you passed out or worse from drinking some day. You can't do that to me, John. You shouldn't do it to yourself. I mean, you're such a great guy and all. Come on, please, just talk to my teacher. He's really good-"

"Jenni, I _said _I'm handling it!" His voice was raised now, irritable, and since that happened so infrequently, she knew better than to push further. Instead, after a silent pause, she threw up her hands, her blue eyes fraught with concern.

"Okay, John. Okay. Well, what can I do?"

He smiled at her through the thick lock of his silver-black hair that had fallen over his brow and eye again. "Right now? You can come back to bed." His whisper-light voice always did that trick on her. He gently patted and rubbed the spot in the bed next to him and then held out his arms to embrace her.

Their desire had returned at least once more before she finally fell asleep, spent, in his arms, her soft warm body fitting in close with his. That should have been enough for most other men after making love. But John was not most men.

He did not sleep. He willed himself to stay awake, calling on his long ingrained training in Special Forces to help him do so. He knew the dreams would come that night yet again. They had been stronger, as of late, more frequent, as if they were trying to tell him something was coming towards him, as if the dreams were too large to be contained to his subconscious mind. They would be made real, somehow, made flesh. His past with Joss, Finch and the numbers, with Elias and the evil he stood for, would find him there in Golden. And with Jenni there, he wouldn't be able to drink himself into a stupor to keep them at bay. So awake, he was.

##

The next few days, after Joss' decision to go and look for John was a done deal, would let loose a flurry of activity. Her first order of business was to come once she got to work that morning. There would be a double shift for her on this day, and while she needed to meet with Finch to go over logistics both for New York and Colorado, that wouldn't be possible until at least the next evening, after her full day shift was over. Her plan before getting to work was to call him to set something up for the three of them, perhaps a dinner date, in order to discuss their next moves where Taylor was concerned.

But she found she was too late. Finch beat her to the punch, just as she got Taylor's breakfast ready, and he sat down to eat.

Her burner phone rang. "Good morning, Detective. I trust you have slept well. I was hoping that we could meet to discuss our impending course in this project we've embarked on."

"You've embarked on? I'm the one going." she laughed.

"Of course, Detective. But I'd like to think I was going along for the ride, in spirit," he grinned in kind.

"It's fine, Harold. I was actually going to call you for the same reason. I was thinking that the three of us could have dinner in a couple days to talk. You, me, Taylor."

Taylor's ears perked up when he realized who his mother was talking to. "Hi, Mr. Finch!" he shouted between mouthfuls of cereal.

"Hello, Taylor!" Finch responded in kind, with mirth. _Spending time with this young man would be most rewarding_, he thought. _A welcome change of pace._

"Taylor, you're going to be late for school. I can't drop you, so you'll have to take the school bus. Get moving. I'll tell you later what we're doing tomorrow night, okay? Last bites."

Taylor scrambled to get his school supplies, lunch, and jacket together. He gave his mother a kiss and headed to the door. "Love you, ma. Have a good day."

"You too, baby. See you later. And don't forget to turn in your English homework."

"I won't, ma. Bye, Mr. Finch! Looking forward to hanging out with yoooo..."

Taylor shut the door on that and bounded to the bus stop.

"Sorry, Harold," Joss said as she returned to the phone. "So, yes, why don't we meet tomorrow night? I'm working a double tonight and a full shift tomorrow, but it's a day shift, so, barring any heavy cases, I'll be done by 4:30. Today I'm going to secure the two weeks off."

"That sounds excellent, Detective. What do you think Taylor would enjoy for dinner?"

"Pizza, pasta, burgers. He's not picky."

"That's certainly doable. I'll have the car come around to pick you both up when the time comes. Additionally, I have some other information that may be even more helpful in your search. Now that things on my end are a bit more...functional, I've been able to pinpoint even more clearly where Mr. Reese is, though I don't have an exact address. You'd have to do some digging on that when you got there, I'm afraid."

"Harold, I'd actually appreciate if this meetup was more about Taylor than John," she said. "I didn't tell him the real reason that I'm doing this. I think I'd like to keep it that way, just for a little while."

"Of course, Detective. Understood. So, this will be a Taylor-centric meeting. However, I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the gravity we face in this situation. It would be better not to go into this completely blind."

"Of course not, Harold. There will be time for that. Well, I'll be in touch."

"Good day, Detective-and thank you again for all your help. Will see you soon."

"You have a good day, too, Harold. Goodbye."

Joss finished her coffee and cleared the breakfast dishes before grabbing her gun, badge, and purse and heading out the door. She sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day. But knowing that she had such an important, impending adventure ahead of her sort of took the weight of that off her shoulders.

##

"Carter? Wait, are you...all right? Did I hear you say you wanted _two weeks off?"_

The captain looked at her, stunned, as if he'd just been told that he'd won a million dollars.

"Yes, Cap. I...I think it's time I took some time off. Need a break, big time. And I do have the time that needs to be used. So, two weeks it is. Actually, make it three weeks. I'm planning on traveling, and I want the space to do that and rest up before and after I go."

The Captain still couldn't believe what he was hearing. But if anybody deserved a break at the 8th Precinct, it was Carter. One of the best cops he'd ever served with. Hell, his shock just now came with the fact that she'd beat him to the punch. Had she not, he was going to pull her aside and have take some time himself. He noticed the wear and tear, the fatigue. Policing was a tough job, and indeed she was one of the best at it-but if they weren't careful, even the best burned out before their time. He didn't want to see that happen to her.

"Well...gosh, Carter...when do you need the dates?"

"Well, consider this my 72-hour notice, so this Friday the third until the 23rd. I hope that's okay."

"Uh, sure, sure, Carter, whatever you need. Just...put the request in and you're all set. I'll sign off on it. And don't worry about coverage. I'll take care of that myself. You just be sure to have yourself a good time."

Joss felt that weight come off her shoulders that often did when one had an upcoming break from the grinds of a workplace. Soon, she'd be free of fingerprints and crime scenes for a while. It was indeed liberating, and she was actually looking forward to it.

"So, where you headed, Carter? Florida? Nice cruise to the Bahamas?"

"No. I'm going to Colorado, of all places. To reconnect with a very dear friend of mine. From the military." she said quietly.

##

John returned from the market with his now-weekly parcels of fresh vegetables, cuts of meat, loaves of bread, potatoes, chocolate chip cookies, oats, coffee-and a case of beer, along with a bottle of his favorite Puerto Rican rum. Today was a no-drinking day; last night's lack of sleep wouldn't mix well with alcohol, and he didn't much feel like drinking anyway. But he'd be damned if, when the hauting visions happened, he'd be caught without it.

He was alone now, as he preferred it, Jenni off to work and whatever she did with herself when she wasn't around him. He didn't really know, to be honest. He'd met her in Crossley's Diner when he'd first gotten back to Colorado, but she wasn't a waitress, at least not that day, though she did work there. He was sure she'd told him, but if she did, he couldn't remember. She probably did a little bit of everything. He was sure she was capable of that, and more.

_More. _She wanted that from him. He knew she did. But he was in no shape nor position to give her that. Did he even want to? He didn't know that either. But what he did know was that he was a man. And as a man he had needs. Sexual needs. Deep, strong sexual needs that the booze never seemed to get in the way of. And now, her buxom body-with its fulsome, pink-tipped breasts, tight heat, and warm mouth-provided that in his bed, in the night, for hours, if they so chose. But she did want more; he could detect the signs now, after just a few months of seeing each other. A life, a family, a commitment. And she would make some lucky man a fine wife-some day.

But he was such a damaged, troubled one that , the way it was now, such an arrangement as he had with her was all he could emotionally offer. All he could afford to offer. And that wasn't going to change.

There was, in truth, only two women in his life had breeched the walls around his heart to make him even consider such a chance for himself: a future, a family, love, passion. The first had been Jessica. The other, Jocelyn Carter. His "Detective," with her commitment to justice and decency, and those soft brown eyes, had changed him for the better after his harrowing years with the Agency. He'd spent the first six months eluding her capture as The Man in the Suit, and then the next year or so trying to protect her fron the corruption of HR. They trusted one another with their lives, their vulnerabilities, and somewhere along the way, his feelings for her grew to a level that threatened to overwhelm him. And yet, he never told her. Then, it was too late.

But she was far away now, back in New York, probably involved with another man as he was with Jenni. Probably happy. Yes, probably.

He almost didn't register the growling bark and shuffle of a dog from behind, while contemplating the possibility of Joss being happy, being touched and kissed, made love to, by someone other than himself. The effect was always the same: envy and jealousy for her phantom lover, and a pit of emptiness for himself. He'd never had that chance with her, the chance to show her his passion for her, a passion that still burned as hot as it did in New York. But perhaps, considering the fact that he'd never see her again, that was a subject he'd do best to get off his mind for good. If only he could.

As he put his parcels on the large wooden table near one of the cabin windows, his pet husky came bounding in towards him from the back hallway, near the kitchen area.

"Hey, Bear," he said, nuzzling the husky behind the ears. Soon, it would be time for his walk down their favorite wooded trail, the place near the cabin where the streams and brooks converged to run towards the river miles away. Those walks kept him alive in the world, kept him from completely shutting down, even with the rum in his veins. He looked forward to them. But right now, he passed a piece of the meat he'd bought, and would later freeze for stew, to his faithful companion. While Bear snapped up the morsel, John was content to sit with him, rubbing his soft fur, looking out the window. There was a decidely bitter, frosty chill in the crisp air. Though it was now early June, snow was soon to return.

##

After the twenty-four hour work marathon ended, Joss quickly came home, changed out of her suit and put on jeans and a t-shirt, and decided to carry a sweater to dinner with Taylor and Harold. Placing a call to Harold, she let him know that they were ready to be picked up. Harold arrived within twenty minutes, and they headed to a nearby family restaurant, where Taylor took full advantage of the fact that Harold was footing the bill. As they ate and grinned at him, Joss and Harold discussed emergency contact information, school contact info, medical info, and other issues related to looking after a teenaged boy. Joss' mother would be on standby, just in case, and Taylor would be allowed to sleep over at his friend Mike's house during at least one of the weekends.

Joss also explained that she took off the extra time for travel and space for days in New York. Taylor was down for all of it. Finch assured her that she need not worry.

"Well, Taylor, starting next week, you and I will get to know one another better. Sounds exciting, no?"

"Oh, definitely. How are you at video games?"

Finch smiled. "My young friend, you don't want to know."

Joss looked between the two of them. _This will be interesting, _she thought. Very interesting. She just hoped neither one of them ended up in too much trouble.

##

Later on, after Joss got ready for bed, she was again to excited to sleep right away. What would Colorado be like for weather over the next weeks? She had to make a point of doing her research; it wouldn't do to be caught unprepared for that at all, especially when spending potentially long hours on a search. During lunch the next day, she'd also make a point of going to get a few travel books from the book shop near the 8th. And of course, that other meeting with Finch would have to take place. She was glad he'd kept the bargain not to spill the beans to Taylor about her real reasons for going on this trip. If she was successful, she'd be sure to fill him in then. It just seemed better that way.

Once again, sleep wouldn't come, though she was exhausted after her double and a half shift. She looked towards her closet again.

Getting up from the bed and going to the closet, she pulled out her large blue American Tourister, hardly used, save for a trip to Florida a few years ago with her mother. Opening it up, Joss began filling the case with clothes she'd thought she'd need for the trip. She wouldn't even be leaving until the following week, but she was driven to get started, partly out of restlessness, partly out of the need to feel that all of this was really happening. She _would _find John, whether he came back with her or not. She had to let him know that she was sorry for driving him away. _She_ had to know that he was okay. If that was all there was to be gained from it all, it was enough. Wasn t it?

A**/N: So, we see John, finally, and he is in pain, but he isn't alone in his cabin in Colorado. What will this mean for Joss? For them both? We shall see in future chap-dates! Leave your written voice, if you feel free, and thanks again for the read. Happy 4th weekend for all the Americans in the house!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hi, all. Sorry for the delay on the next chapter of the story. RL and that, you know. John and Joss don't catch each other in this one-that's Chap 8, which I've started and which should be done shortly-but this one sees her make her way there, as well as gives a greater insight into just what John's nightly torment is like. Once they are in one another's orbit, the "separate lives" aspect should dissipate a bit, but I didn't want just the singular POVs. Getting into each, or as many characters' heads as possible, is terribly fun, haha!**

**As usual, pardon the typos, and enjoy. Chugging along, we is!**

**Two Days Later**

"Ma, will you quit worrying? I'll be fine. Mr. Finch and I will look out for each other. Don't sweat your head about it."

"All right, Mr. Smart Mouth, watch it. And anyway, I'm not worrying. Because _you _know what I told you would happen if you didn't behave yourself."

"Seriously, ma? I know how to act. I'm not six anymore, gosh!" Taylor turned down his mouth in a pout of attitude.

Joss smiled at him and put her arm around him. "No, you aren't. You're practically grown. And I know you know how to act. But a friendly reminder doesn't hurt. Come on. Let me get you those Jordans you wanted, then we'll have lunch. My shopping is just about done."

After leaving Macy's, they headed to the Foot Stop store for Taylor's sneakers. Joss and her son had spent the better part of the day at the mall, where she picked up some last-minute items for her trip, including a North Wind parka that, for the time of year, she got a good deal on. Having checked the forecast for the area, she knew she couldn't dress as she would in New York. Sure, there was such a thing as a proper summer in Colorado-but it had a weird timetable. She didn't want to get caught by that at all. She also picked up new underwear, warm socks, pajamas, and a backpack and hiking boots at the camping store. Combined with her other clothing, toileties, and makeup, as well as her badge for additional ID and questioning purposes if necessary, she was pretty much set to go. All that needed to be included now was her purse and wallet. Her service weapon would be locked up in the safe at home. There should be no need for a gun. She was going to try and convince John home, not shoot him.

She still needed to meet with Finch to go over details, as well as pick up her tickets, rental car voucher, and hotel reservations. Her mother would come by the house periodically to pick up mail, water the plants and other tasks. Mom had been a bit surprised that she hadn't been pressed into service to keep an eye on Taylor, but she wasn't complaining. There was a plan for her and Finch to have dinner with Taylor over the time that Joss was gone, so each would know the other, and so that Finch could have another familial contact to touch base with.

Taylor picked out his Jordans, tried them on, and they were just what he wanted. Of course, he'd scoped them out on the Internet weeks before, so all it took _was_ to try them on. Not a splurge Joss would normally indulge in, but this was their special weekend, and she had to admit that she was feeling really good, really upbeat about everything. Once she'd decided to go search for John, everything seemed to fall into place. Perspective, perception, preoccupation-all three had been changed completely in a mere matter of days.

She'd needed a switch up in purpose. Had Finch not come to her with this, she might not have ever done it; just continued to rack up vacation time with nowhere to unload it. But now, she was pouring all her energies into her voyage. Even shopping for a downy-feathered parka gave her a rush.

And what of the reason for her preparation? How was she really feeling about potentially encountering John again? The trepidation still existed, of course, since she wasn't as convinced as Finch and Fusco that he'd be as agreable to see her as they were. However, she felt as if, so long as she kept the mission at the forefront of her mind, and that even if he didn't want to leave with her, she'd be good.

Still, the idea of being able to speak to him after all these months, to see him, did give her a very special set of butterflies in the belly, all of which did not have to do with being afraid of his reaction to her. With the revelations of her two friends in her mind, she had a new outlook on John, and if she managed to track him down, was curious to see what she might find living in those gorgeous eyes of his when he fixed them on her. Would that intensity that she remembered still be there? Would it be there for _her_? Figuring that out would be part of the adventure.

"Maaa? Ma!"

Taylor broke Joss out of her reverie. "What...what...?"

"Ma, where did you go? Aren't we taking these to the register?" Taylor was eager to show off his new kicks. Joss smiled at him, once she came back to earth-but she was still a little bit far away.

"Oh-oh, yeah. Sorry, baby. Come on. Let's get you your Jordans and we'll go for pizza. I'm starving, aren't you?"

##

**Travel Day, Early Morning**

Both Joss and Taylor rose at 7am, as they normally did, got showered and dressed, and worked on last-minute details before Joss' flight. She wasn't even due to leave New York until about twelve hours later, but she and Finch still needed to meet to go over her itinerary once she arrived in Colorado.

Because she still didn't want Taylor to know the real reason for her trip, they planned to meet up at the Lyric Diner, while Taylor stayed home to finish packing his own gear. Once she got his breakfast ready, and he was sitting down at the table, she grabbed her purse and keys. She'd pick up something at the diner.

"Taylor, I have a meeting about...the case," she said. "I'll be gone for a little while, so you need to finish packing for Mr. Finch. After my meeting, he's picking me up to come back here to pick you up. Be ready, baby."

"Okay, Ma. I am almost, anyway. And besides, if I need something, I can always just come home."

He had a point. She'd say no more. With a kiss to the air, she bounded out the front door. "Back soon, T. Love you."

"Love you, too, ma. Thanks for giving me the day off school!"

##

The Lyric was busy as usual that morning, but Joss and Finch had no trouble finding a decent spot to have their breakfast meeting. He greeted her warmly, dressed in his customary three-piece suit, a dark blue color suiting him well.

"Detective." he said "Well, today is the big day. How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? Still nervous. Still can't believe I'm actually doing this. But it's okay. I'm on the case. What have we got?"

Finch began rifling through the briefcase he carried with him. "Here are your plane tickets, with all dates accounted for, first class, of course. And you are scheduled to fly into Denver International Airport. From there, you should be able to pick up your rental car and drive into the city of Golden- where my source has indicated Mr. Reese may have a strong presence. There is, as I mentioned before, a layover in Chicago, but it should be no more than hour, as listed. Fingers crossed. The rental car reservation is also included."

He continued rifling, handing materials to her as he found them. "Here is the reservation for your hotel. I put you up at an establishment called The Golden Arms. It's listed as a four-star establishment, and it appears to have excellent reviews, so I hope that it will be to your liking, Detective."

Joss smiled. "Oooh, four-star hotel, eh? Anybody else you want me to go find, Harold?"

"I think Mr. Reese is probably enough for now, Detective, don't you?"

"Yeah. One vigilante at a time, I suppose," she grinned.

He cocked a knowing eyebrow at her over the rim of his glasses. "Indeed. In any case, I have also included a spending allowance for meals, mileage, whatever you might need." He handed her a platinum debit card in a small envelope.

Joss put a hand up. "That's okay, Harold. I have access to my own spending money, thanks."

"Well," Harold smiled daintily, " to be honest, all the money isn't solely for your benefit, Detective. I've never been to Colorado proper before. I'd love a few souvenirs, if you wouldn't mind. A ten-gallon cowboy hat, among other things. Always wanted one."

Joss broke out in genuine, guffawing laughter. "Oh, really? Well, in that case, I'll take the dough! I couldn't possibly disappoint you, now could I? And I'd just have to see you wearing it. One ten-gallon hat it is, then. Be sure to give me your measurements for the tee shirts you want, too!"

##

**Just Before Dawn, Golden, CO, same day**

_"Oh, John...you're wonderful. Kiss me. Kiss me again."_

_Her lips were full and luscious, ripe like the sweetest fruit. He smiled and gently took her face in his hands once more, lowering his head to taste her. Oh, God, but she was delicious. Simply delicious._

_"Joss..." he murmured between her lips, "let me make love to you. I want to feel you, all of you. It's our time, honey. Please..."_

_She opened her mouth and invited his tongue inside. He took full advantage, exploring, tasting, teasing. Soon, they were feverish for one another, hands, fingers, mouths dueling, needy, hungry. His hands left her back and tangled in her soft dark hair. The kiss seemed to go on and on, John deliriously happy to be in her arms, against her mouth. He heard her moan, and he increased his ardor._

_But then, there was another sound. It was distant at first, then closer, louder. Soon, it surrounded them both, causing them to break the kiss. The sound was that of a baby crying. Leila. He looked over, behind Joss, who had also been searching for the sound, and saw her crawling little body come towards them, her face a story of distress. He slowly released Joss and gently walked over to the child, his cooing voice meant to soothe._

_"Leila, there you are. There you are, little one. It's okay, baby. Shhh...I've got you."_

_However, his soft words seemingly only served to cause her more distress. When he bent down to pick up the baby, she cried louder. He reached for her, the now deafening wails surrounding the entire space. When he was just within reach, she disappeared. Gone. Where had she gone? Where was she? _

_John frantically looked around. He then realized that Joss was gone, too. Where were they? The room became dimmer the more he spun around to find them. He called out. "Leila? Joss? Come back! Leila, sweetie, where are you? Why can't I hear you crying anymore? Joss? Joss? What...?"_

_His voice trailed off as he felt the rising sense of panic hit him in the chest. He couldn't see and could only hear the woosh-woosh of his own pulse in his ears. Instinctively, he clawed at the air, trying to find some kind of bearing, some kind of footing that would aid him._

_And then, a flash of light hit him squarely in the face. The room turned cold all of a sudden, terribly cold, as if he was encased in ice. The light flashed again, and he could hear her cries once more. She wasn't alone. Elias was there too. He was holding her, smiling, staring directly at John._

_John lunged at him, shouting like a demonic man. "Elias! Elias! Let her go! Put her down! Elias!"_

_"I'm sorry, John. I truly am. It's not in my nature to hurt a child. And it's true that we had a deal. I suppose I just feel a bit...unsportsmanlike this time. Say goodbye, John. May she have a good life, wherever she goes."_

_John became frantic, even as the cold began to sap his strength. "No...no...Elias, don't do this! Elias, please! She's just a baby, please! Elias! ELIAS! ELIAS! DON'T...DON'T YOU DO THIS! ELIAS! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU!" John's desperate roar fell on deaf ears as Elias turned with a screaming, twisting Leila and walked into the darkness. And then, there was no sound, no more crying. He crawled to where they had been, the cold taking more of a toll on him, and sobbed. He called her name over and over and professed his sorrow for having failed her, for having lost her to evil. He sobbed until he heard footsteps behind him. He slowly turned to the direction of the sound._

_"Elias? Elias? Leila? Let her go, damn you. You devil, let her go!"_

_"John..."_

_It wasn't Elias. It was Joss. She had come back from wherever she'd gone. He scrambled towards her in the cold. For light had returned at that moment, and he could see her through the haze of his tears. _

_"Joss...Joss...did you see? Elias, he...he took Leila...he took her, and he's going to let something horrible happen to her! Please, tell me if you saw them...please..."_

_"John, what were you even doing talking to Elias?" _

_"I...I...don't...he took Leila...we had a deal..." He couldn't quite remember the deal now, but he knew he'd bargained for Leila somehow._

_"No, you let him take her, John. YOU LET HIM TAKE HER! I'll never forgive you for this! Never...never...never..."_

_John reached for her like a broken, begging man, crawling again, grabbing at her leg. He managed to get upright on his knees to actually beg her not to leave him, not now. "Joss, please, no, don't go. Please, I love you, no...don't...I'll get her back, I promise, just...don't leave me..."_

_Joss' just continued to back away, tears in her own eyes, repeating that one word. "Never...never...never..."_

"Joss...Joss...no...don't go, honey...please don't go. I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry...JOSS, NO!"

The force of this awakening was the strongest he could remember it having been since he started having the dreams. His body jumped so hard that he managed to move the heavy sofa bed slightly out of its place. He looked around, seeing the familiar surroundings of the cabin, as dawn provided a faint natural lighting. He noticed Bear, lounging by the fireplace, though at attention, a friendly, concerned growl that ended on a whimper his greeting for his master.

He noticed, too, that he was sweating profusely, and he tried to gulp down mouthfuls of air to steady his breathing. He felt hot and cool at the same time, as the sweat began to evaporate off his naked chest. Running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair , he turned to see Jenni lying next to him, still, the column of her delicate spine relaxed, her long blonde hair like golden corn silk splayed and tossed across the pillow. He was glad he hadn't disturbed her. He was glad one of them could sleep through the night.

He got up slowly and went for the toilet to relieve himself. Before doing so, he stopped and looked at the bottle of rum he'd bought the other day, now on his kitchen cupboard above the cast-iron stove, between the salt, pepper, and curry powder he never had cause to use. He decided that he'd been a teetotaler long enough. While he still wouldn't drink in front of Jenni, he most definitely was going to get drunk. An early evening drink session at The Squarehouse Bar was now on the agenda. He would be alone again, so it'd be a cinch to fall in with some of the regulars. Alone, but amongst other alone drunks. It was a plan.

As he continued on to the upstairs bathroom, he tried to be as quiet as he could be, out of respect to the sleeping Jenni. Bear decided to scurry up from his comfy spot near the fireplace to join him.

Little did he realize that Jenni hadn't been asleep as his dream took place next to her, and unlike the first time she'd lain with him during one of the nightmares, she hadn't ever exactly heard the name of the woman she knew haunted John as much as the baby did. But this time, she heard everything, every word, every plea he'd made. After "Elias" there was "Joss."

_Joss. Joss. Joss. Please don't go, Joss...I love you, Joss..._

She stared straight ahead at the wall opposite her, not really seeing, just staring. It rang like an alarm bell in her mind, what he'd said in his troubled sleep. And she never knew that the name of a woman so far away, that she'd never met, who'd never done her any harm at all, could make her heart hurt so much.

##

After getting Taylor squared away with Harold and kissing her boy senseless in departure, Joss made it to JFK about two hours before her flight was due to depart. It would have been three, but an accident heading towards Jamaica snarled things up considerably, costing her forty-five minutes drive time. Still plenty of time, but she had been impatient to get there, and New York traffic tie-ups had ways of making one late for their own funeral. She very well could have missed her flight had it been really bad. Luckily, however, it wasn't and now the flight was on schedule, prepped for departure.

As Joss settled into her window seat in first class with a menu-a perk of this particular carrier-her phone rang. It was okay to take it, since they were still grounded, and she figured it was Taylor, missing mama already, and wanting one last good-bye before take off.

It wasn't Taylor, though. It was Fusco. Joss smiled and answered.

"Hey, you leavin' your favorite partner without saying _ciao, _Carter?"

"Yeah, sorry about that, Fusco. Been real busy getting ready for this."

"I hear ya. So, you think you'll find him? See-oh is a big place, kid."

"Well, in going over things with Harold, the narrow down is in the city of Golden, not too far from Denver at all. That's where I'll be staying, making camp, if you will. It's not a crazy big city, so if he's there for sure there's a good chance I could get hold of him, yeah."

"Well, you know Wonderboy is good at covering his butt, so leave no stone unturned until you do. I'm rootin' for you."

"Thanks, Fusco. I appreciate that. If I do catch up to him, I'll tell him you send your regards."

"Oh, I bet he'd love that," he said laughing. "I'd be able to hear the crack he makes all the way here. Well, I better let you go, Carter. Be careful-and try to have a good time in between chasing down Tall, Dark, and Deranged. It's your vacation, too, you know. See you soon, with or without John."

"Yep, you too. And try not to get yourself killed while I'm gone, because I don't want a new partner. Take care, Fusco."

Perfect timing. A flight attendent came by to remind all passengers to turn off their electronic devices and to have their seatbelts fastened.

As the plane began taxiing down the runway, Joss noticed that the sun, which had been blazing earlier, was now hidden by a blanket of cloud cover. Strange that she had such a gloomy view of the sky when she was in such good spirits. And in good spirits she would choose to remain. She refused to believe the cloudy day was a sign of anything ominous.

Soon, the plane lifted off into the air. She was on her way. Next stop, Chicago, then Denver.

_Ready or not, John Reese, here I come._

**##**

**Golden, CO, mid-morning, next day**

After a hearty breakfast with Jenni at the cabin, which he cooked, the two of them took Bear for his walk through the woods nearby. The air was turning colder by the day, and the massive storm predicted over the next day or so was sure to come now. Other parts of the country were already basking in late spring, early summer heatwaves, but Colorado was having one of its off years, where winter's grip was loathe to completely loosen itself. John didn't mind. He liked the snow, enjoyed testing his endurance against its heavy weight and volume in exercise, and feeling the crisp air sting his cheeks. Of the good memories he had of New York, Central Park, after a good snowfall, was one of his most treasured.

But now, he walked at a brisk pace with his dog and his girlfriend in a wholly different place. He was in a different place. Nine months before he was _The Man in the Suit, _knee-capping bad ass, and thorn in the side to criminals and cops alike on the mean streets of New York City. He was Finch's partner with the numbers. He was Lionel's external conscience. And he was Joss' protector. Or at least he tried to be.

Truth was, they'd had each others' backs, even when Mark Snow came for him. He'd never been angry at her for that, knowing that, had she been more aware of the situation, it wouldn't have happened that way. And since then, she had trusted him countless times, at great risk to her job, her freedom, her reputation. He never took that trust lighly, never took it for granted. Except that one time, with Leila. And then, she'd cut him out of her life. And that existence ceased to be his from then on.

As they quietly walked, Jenni tried to study his face as best she could. He was lost in thought, but she saw him grimmace as if a painful memory just lashed across his mind. She hadn't asked at breakfast, though it was on the tip of her tongue to do so. She would, however, do so now, just to see what he'd say, just to see if he'd admit to anything.

"Who is Joss?" She said the words plainly, but with the tiniest hint of accusation that John's well-honed senses definitely picked up on.

It was like a whip had cracked across his back. He stopped suddenly, startled by hearing that name out loud after all this time, on the lips of someone who'd never met her.

The gently rushing water of Clear Creek and the chirp of birds in the trees were the only sounds to be heard. John stood silently for a moment, staring at Bear, at his feet, at the large pine directly in front of him. Anywhere but at Jenni.

"No one," he answered, finally, quietly. "No one at all."

"Okay. She's 'no one.' Okay, John."

"No one you need be concerned about, anyway," he answered, with a slight air of nonchalance that he hadn't intended. Still, he pulled up the collar of his snug-fitting navy blue peacoat further against the chill and sniffed.

They continued on a few more feet with Bear, who was busily about doing the dog's vocation of tracking in the grass. Suddenly, Jenni stopped to wipe tears from her eyes and turned to run back in the direction of the cabin.

"Jenni? Jenni, sweetie, wait. I'm sorry. Jenni, wait..."

Both he and Bear ran in the chilly air to catch up with her, and when they did, he pulled her into his arms for a deep and all-encompassing hug. Wiping her tears, with his gloved fingers, he smiled tenderly at her before kissing her forehead and tweaking her slightly reddened nose.

"Look...Joss is someone from my past, someone I was very close to, a good friend at one time, but we had a falling out and that's not the case anymore. She's no one."

_"_In your dreams, you call out for her. Last night you said you loved her. I heard you clearly this time. I couldn't before, but I did this time. Sounds like more than just a friend to me, John."

_Dammit, _he swore silently. _She must have heard me talking in my sleep after all. _

"Okay, that could've happened, I suppose-"

"No 'could've', John. It _did. _I heard you. You were begging her not to let you go, not to leave you. How am I supposed to take that, you dreaming about another woman with me there?"

A spat was brewing. Not a full-on fight, because he never let it get that far, but definitely a spat. John sighed and got ready. He and Jenni had had their share, for sure, in the months that he'd known her. Things she wanted to do that he didn't like meeting her friends, her parents, going to discos, all that inspired little fights between them.

He chalked it up to her being half his age, with less baggage than he had, and therefore with a bit more youthful passion to bear-a passion he'd been taking full advantage of in bed. But nowhere else. He wanted the warmth of her body, the moans from her mouth and throat, her lips and tongue on his dick was all he could afford to want from her. Dinner was fine-so long as it was just the two of them, and the promise of good sex afterwards was part of the program. He couldn't, or wouldn't, allow himself to see that the same stubborn stoicism that he reserved for Joss, particularly in the beginning of their working relationship, he was now serving to Jenni. And much like Joss, she rebelled against it.

It was easier for him to do it and get away with it this time, though. Joss had a way of breaking through defenses, seeing right through to a man's soul. It was more than her Army credentials as an interrogator at play; it was her natural spirit. Jenni had other gifts, but being able to break him wasn't one of them. That's the way he wanted it. That's the way it had to be.

"Okay, Jenni. I apologized. That's all I can do, sweetie." He was already done with this chat, as far as he was concerned.

"No, it's not! You can go and get help, John, like I've been telling you. You need to heal. But you're not doing that hanging out here with Bear and getting loaded all the time! I mean, what the fuck, does anything I say matter to you?"

"I don't need any help. Your psych teacher can't help me. Thank you for the offer, but no thanks. Now, stop it." He'd gone acidic on her again, the embrace lost, his mouth drawn into a line.

"Great. Great, just great. Well, you know what, John? I can't help you, either, because you seem to know best. So, I'll stop. I'll stop. So long as you do."

"What's that mean?"

"That means the drinking. That means dreaming about the baby...about Joss." She didn't normally push for ultimatums with men, didn't usually have to. But John was rapidly making her rethink that position. However, his obstinancy was formidable; if he wasn't going to do something, he wasn't going to do it. And because she was crazy about him, she still didn't want to push _too_ hard. So instead, she changed the subject.

"Look, I've gotta go, need to get to the diner for a shift, then class. Not sure when I'll be back to stay over, what with the weather turning. I'll just keep up in Pleasant View. You gonna be okay?"

John nodded his head. "That makes sense, Jenni. Safety first. Yeah, I'll be fine. Come on, it's getting colder."

They walked back together, again in silence, Bear trotting ahead, off his leash. The only allowance made toward their intimacy was Jenni loosely linking her arm with John's and him not pulling away. That was something, at least.

**A/N: Hmm, I kinda feel bad for Jenni. John is a tough nut to crack, and, as written, she just doesn't have the skills to breech his walls the way Joss does (part of that is due in part to Joss having her own walls up, to a point). Girlfriend don't know what she's dealing with-but he rocks her world in bed, so she's hangin' in, hahaha! But Joss is on her way. Now that she knows her name, what will happen later, when she encounters the woman haunting John's dreams?**

**Chap 8 is in progress. Stay tuned, guys, and please comment if you're feeling the urge! **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: The fateful first encounter between our intrepid heroes/lovers in Colorado happens here. But first, Joss has to maneuver the traffic for a meal. And it's here that we'll meet John's old friend Sam, bartender of the Squarehouse Bar and Grille, John's favorite watering hole and the spot where all the sparks begin to fly. I had fun writing for Sam. He's my Wild West Fusco, haha! I hope you have a good read, and drop a line as usual. Yee haw!**

**Denver, mid-afternoon **

Joss laughed when she'd collected her bags and went to pick up her rental car. Harold knew her too well, as she was presented the keys to a shiny new cobalt-blue Impala with New Jersey plates. Much better than her NYPD-issue one, that was for sure.

The flight had been good overall. She was a little jetlagged, but other than that, she was feeling good. Now, it was time to get her bearings, and then head off to Golden. Once she got in the vehicle, she placed a call to Finch and Taylor.

"Hi, Harold. I'm here in Denver."

"Ah yes, Detective. I trust the flight went well?"

"Yes, it did. No complaints. And thank you for the first-class tickets. I can get used to that sort of thing, you know."

"Not a problem, Detective. Now that you're there, what's your next move?"

"Well, just to get myself out of Denver and into Golden. I'm in the car, so when I get off with you, I'm going to head over. The GPS looks new, so I should be okay. Is Taylor home from school?"

"Why, yes, Detective, he is. When I picked him up, we went for ice cream and chatted effusively about his day, his favorite subjects, all sorts of things. He's a wonderful boy, Joss. Right now, he's tackling his homework, and later, we're going to compete against one another on a new chess program I've been working on. I look forward to it. I'm sure he'll be a most formidable opponent!"

"Sounds like you're both doing well. Can I speak to him?"

"Of course, Detective. One second."

Soon, Taylor's voice could be heard over the phone. "Hi, Ma. Was the flight good?"

"Yes, honey. I'm here, all in one piece, just about to head over to the source. I'm glad you're doing well with Finch."

"Yeah, he's all right for an old guy. Just kidding, ma," he said upon hearing her gasp in embarrassment.

"Boy, you better be, or you're gonna be homeless for the next two weeks!"

He laughed. "So how is it there so far?"

Joss shivered. "Cold. Good thing I did buy that North Wind coat. There's supposed to be a big snowstorm over the next day or so. I don't know how much work I'll get done, or anything else, for that matter if I get buried in it."

"Wow, really? It's still blazing here-in June. Well, keep warm, ma. That's crazy."

"I will, baby. Go and finish your homework and put Mr. Finch back on. I love you, baby. I'll check in soon."

"Love you, too, ma. Here you go, Mr. Finch."

"Detective, is everything all right?"

"Just telling Taylor that the weather here may hamper my efforts a little bit. Blizzard on the way."

"Yes, that area of the country can have some volatile weather at times, as we do here. Well, I certainly don't want you to put yourself at risk, Detective. By all means, make sure you are in a place to hunker down when that storm hits. Remember, you have two weeks at your disposal, and if Mr. Reese is nearby, he will be just as put down by the storm as anyone. It's a marathon, not a sprint, Detective."

Joss sighed. "You're right, Harold. I just need to get settled and try to do the best I can under the circumstances, whatever comes. Well, I'd better get a move on, check this Golden city out, and find a place to eat before going to the hotel. Maybe I could even start asking around tonight about John. Somebody there knows him from somewhere."

"You do have the photos, the recent ones, I supplied you?"

"Of course, as well as copies of the other material you showed me, in case the background needs a dig in too. If need be, I have my NYPD badge on hand as well. It may be a good idea to make a visit to the local police station."

"That's excellent, Detective. I have a good feeling about your chances. More than ever, I'd say."

Joss laughed shortly. "It's okay, Harold. I'm here. You can stop now. Look, I'm gonna get on the road now. I'll check in over the next day or so. Thanks, again for keeping my boy."

"Not an issue at all. Good-bye, Detective-and good luck."

Joss disconnected with Harold and popped the keys in the ignition. The Impala roared to life, and Joss took a deep breath before setting her GPS coordinates for Golden. This was it.

_John Reese, if you're here, I __**will **__find you. Ready or not, here I come._

##

John entered and sank against the front door of the cabin, sweaty, breathless, energy coursing through every nerve of his body. The cold air run, two miles each way, partially through the woods, partially through the town roads, usually had the effect of clearing his head whenever the demons began to rankle him outside his nightmares. But today, it didn't work so well. Yes, the run had been good for his body, but his mood was still in the dump. His spat with Jenni had actually continued a little further once they got back to the cabin. She indeed was leaving for her shift at the diner-but not before losing her temper, which culminated in her calling him a selfish asshole.

She had apparently, on surface, been dismayed at the fact that he had folded her clothes and other belongings, methodically placing them in her bags and leaving them at the door as soon as they got back to the house. She accused him of trying to be rid of her to drink, while he was unhappy that all her things were seemingly all over the place, resulting in his quick action. She saw it differently, of course, but with his military background, she knew she had never witnessed a neater person in her life. He kept house better than her mom even did. It was one of the things she liked about him. So many guys her own age were slobs.

But had she not still felt the discussion over Joss was unresolved, she wouldn't have cared a whit about the damn bags. Yes, he'd admitted who Joss was in his past, but any further clearing of the air, he shut down. He shut _her_ down. And though she was young, she wasn't stupid enough not to know that.

And then, John did something he'd never done with any woman, even Kara from his CIA days: He exploded in temper in turn, snapping to attention at her insult, and bellowed at her to fuck off for it. He was immediately sorry, but the damage was done. Stunned, but not immobilized, she told him not to worry, that she would indeed fuck off, picked up her stuff and stormed out to her car, John giving chase for a few feet before she was kicking up dust down the woodsy road.

He swore under his breath. Even if he regretted blowing up at her that way, she'd partially managed to piss him off, his normal detachment usually a sufficient barrier to that possibility. After she'd left he got dressed for his run, and now that he was back, the irritability remained. He zeroed in on the rum on the shelf. He promised himself that morning that he'd get himself drunk. But he didn't feel like doing it there. Suddenly, the cabin felt stiflingly small, just as irritating as Jenni's outburst had been. Pulling himself up on his feet, he scampered upstairs and headed for his shower. The Squarehouse Bar had a stool with his name on it. Who was he not to go down and pay it a visit? And who knew? Maybe that night, he'd find himself another "Jenni." He had an easy way with women, always had. It wouldn't be that difficult.

##

Joss' approach into Golden made her feel as if she were riding through some location movie set. Well, enough so that she kept comparing it to what she left back at home in New York. She knew she was where she was supposed to be, GPS notwithstanding, when, through the long train of cars and pick-up trucks that was the main drag traffic, she saw a sign saying "Welcome to Golden-Gateway to the West." She had indeed reached her destination.

The town was nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains on all sides. In the distance, she could see a snow capped peak clearly, and she was excited by the prospect of getting a few pictures of it with her new digital camera. Her camera phone might not have done that justice. She knew Taylor would be excited to see them, too.

Joss continued to move slowly behind the other vehicles. _That _wasn't different from New York. Perhaps this wasn't normal, and there was an event of some kind happening. Nothing else for it, though, but to sit back and relax. No hurries, no worries. Besides, she'd have the chance to take in more of her surroundings as she went along, get a good look at the people, the car plates, the character of the place.

At least she'd beat that impending storm there, though the wind had picked up considerably, the temps had dropped a few points further than when she'd arrived, and light precipitation had already begun. But she was a New Yorker, used to bad weather, so she'd be all right. She just needed to get that coat and its accessories out of her suitcase before venturing anywhere substantial. She'd packed it at the top, so it shouldn't have been a problem to retrieve-unless the TSA guys made a mess of her things.

In studying the passersby on the sidewalk, she realized that she'd been looking for John amongst their ranks. But thus far, even though there were plenty of tall, good-looking white men with salt-and-pepper hair to choose from, none of them were John. However, her gut instincts told her he was there. She could feel him in the fabric of this little western town, and her excitement began to build anew. It was all good.

Her tummy began to growl at that moment. She should have been hungry at that point, since her last meal was on the plane, hours before. Instead of trying to get to The Golden Arms in this crawl, she decided that she'd pull out off the traffic flow the first chance she got, making a detour on any left turn available to her. After another ten minutes, she had her moment to slip through onto Cobalt Avenue and pretty soon encountered a cozy looking establishment called The Squarehouse Bar and Grille. That would do as good as any other place at this point. Her tummy was kicking her. It was getting windier, the snow still light but steady falling. And it was starting to turn dark.

##

"Hey, Chief, you might wanna slow down some. That's your fifth beer and your third glass of rum in as much as twenty minutes. Now, I know you ain't drivin', but no need to make it so you can't _walk_ outta here when you're s'posed to," said Sam, the crusty old owner, bartender, and fixture of the Squarehouse Bar, as he reluctantly passed John that fifth beer and third glass of rum. Folks throughout Calhoun County knew Sam Ginty as a minor legend in the bar trade, the man who could keep 'em comin' no questions asked, while rolling troublemakers out the door on their asses with one hand. He was a dying breed, a throwback to the days of the Old West, where the saloon was king, the whiskey flowed like water, and the barkeep knew how to swing a six-shooter.

He had a soft spot in his gut for John, though, as he'd known his father as a dear friend from their mutual service in Vietnam, and had met little Johnny when he was just a tyke. After John left Boulder for his own military career, Sam stayed on in Colorado and opened up the bar there in Golden, having known that John's parents had purchased the cabin there and the small acreage it sits on. After John's parents had passed away, John was left the cabin, and while he couldn't be there to look after it, he'd gotten Sam to do that for him. Now, he took on the role of surrogate uncle and confidante, like a lot of bartenders do-but the only one John trusted to do it for him.

"I'm all right, Sam. I'll let you know when I've had enough."

"I thought I just did that," Sam gruffly answered him back.

"Sam..." John started in a warning with no teeth. He wouldn't ever dream of trying to start something with his dear old friend, no matter how trashed he was. Besides, Sam still had the fight left in him to kick his ass, CIA training or not.

"Just watch yourself, John. I ain't meddlin'. I already know anyway. It's the same damn thing with you. Told you you need to go see somebody-or go back to New York and face those monsters you come out here runnin' from. Stop bein' such a damn pussy. You know, I'm just glad your momma and daddy ain't round to see you actin' like this. I really am."

"Whatever, Sam. Just pass me more drink...when I ask for it." He gulped down the mug of beer in two tries before slamming it on top of the bar. "Which, right now, _is _now. Put another...up there," he eagerly gestured with his hand. His speech was slurred, the beginning of the end to his sobriety.

Sam sighed and shooked his head. "Here. I got customers to attend to. Try to stay up off the floor before I get back, willya?" He pulled the tap and more of the foamy German beer John favored filled yet another mug before he went to the wider restaurant to take the orders of his newest patrons-one of which was a pretty little detective who'd come all the way there from New York City on a missing persons case, and who'd decided that this spot, as well as being the place to sate her tummy's hunger, was as good as any to begin her search.

##

Well, hello, there, little lady! Name's Sam. I own this here establishment. What can I get you?"

"Hi, Sam," Joss said with a smile. "I'm Joss. And you know what you could get me? This buffalo burger with all the fixins, plus fries and slaw on the side I see here on the menu. I'm starving."

Sam grinned in response. "Long trip, huh?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, most of the locals don't come here for the grub-not that it's bad or anything, cuz it ain't. Best short order cook this side of Kansas-but the bar back there is usually the main attraction. Besides," he said, in a whisper, "not many little ladies who look like you come in here at all, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well...I'm uh, sorry if I've ruined the running streak. Should I go somewhere else and keep the record intact?" She should have figured, this far out west, somebody might remind her what color she was.

"Oh, no, no, ain't got nothin' against that at all. In God's eyes, we's all kinfolk. Just unusual, that's all. But welcome! Welcome to Golden."

"Yep, just like what the sign says," she smiled sheepishly. "Hey, you got any snacks back there, Sam? Some beer nuts, pretzels, anything? I could eat this table right now. And thank you for the welcome. Much appreciated."

Sam smiled warmly. He liked this pretty little lady immediately. Couldn't be said for all the tourists that rolled through there. "Sure thing. I'll just put this order in, and be right back. Anything to drink?"

"A glass of Coors, please."

"Well, you came to the right place for that! One Coors comin' up. Oh, and snacks."

Sam scampered off back to the bar, where he found John partially nursing his beer, waiting for him. "What are you smiling for, Sam?"

"Ah, just met a tourist. Pretty little black woman, sounds like she's from down South, Virginia way, maybe. She wants some snacks and a buffalo burger. Seems a very nice gal." Sam passed the order to Millie, the cook, and filled a bowl with mixed nuts and pretzels.

"Well, don't scare her off. You need the customers besides bums like me. After your...done with her...more beer for me..."

"John-never mind."

Sam returned to Joss' table to find that she had some folders and other material on her booth table. He set the beer and snacks down.

"What brings you to Golden, Joss?"

"I'm looking for someone. I'm actually a detective for the New York Police Department, and I'm trying to find this man. He and I were partners, of a sort, up until about eight months ago, and then he disappeared. My colleagues and I have reason to think he could be here, in Golden. Here," she said, passing him a recent photo of John. "this is him. Have you ever seen this man before?"

Sam's eyes blinked hard several times before he answered. _Well, I'll be a damned horse's ass! _he thought. "Hmm, not sure. Do you mind if I take this back to the barroom, to get a better look? Maybe ask my short order cook and my waitress too? They might know this fella. What'd you say his name was?"

"Of course. His name is John. John Reese. But he could go by other aliases. Please do, take a look."

"I will...Joss. Be right back."

"Thanks," she said, between nibbles.

Sam strolled slowly back to where John was sitting, photo in hand. "Hmm, you know, John, I'm liking the suit. Looks good on you. And the haircut is an improvment over the long haired shaggy you got goin' now."

John looked at him through mildly bloodshot eyes. "Sam, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you and that pretty little lady out there who done gimme this picture. Says she's been looking for you, and decided to come all this way to try and find you."

John snatched the picture from Sam and saw himself in that other place. _The Man in a Suit _and his fake photo ID pose. The blood rushed from his face as he stared at himself in the photo, a photo from that wholly different place. _And the woman? Who else could it be? Who else, fitting that description, would even dare?_

"Sam...this...this picture...where did you get this?"

"Weren't you listenin', boy? I told you, the little lady waitin' on a buff burg gave it to me."

John continued to hold the pic in front of his face, just barely seeing himself, but realizing that his sanity might just go up in flames if this came to be what he thought it was.

"Did she...did she tell you anything else? Did she say her name? Where she's from?"

"Well, yeah. Said her name was 'Joss,' and that she was from New Yor-"

Sam didn't get a chance to finish. John shot off his stool, grabbed the beer Sam prepared, and rushed toward the front booth area only to see her sitting there, looking down at her table top, her dark hair loosened, framing her heartbreakingly gorgeous face. He was stopped in his tracks for just a moment to look at her, to allow the love deep in his heart to flow and consume him.

Until he remembered why he was there, until he remembered their last encounter.

His love was now masked by anger.

He slowly, tipsily, strolled over to her booth, the heels of his cowboy boots heavy on the wooden floor. At first, Joss didn't look up, so engrossed in the print out she was looking at, that she didn't notice him approach until he sat down, and sloshed the beer on the table, his large torso practically filling the entire space. He waited.

And then, she looked up, a loud gasp the only sound she was able to make. And for what seemed like forever, she simply stared at him, tears forming in her eyes that she didn't shed.

God, he was beautiful, maybe even more so than before, and larger than life. His dark hair was longer, tossled, a little more salted than she remembered, but that could be due to its not being cut regularly. His skin was smooth, his stubbled jaw still angular as she remembered, and his eyes were still the crystal blue-grey that could light up in mirth or darken in anger. He was clad in a form-fitting peacoat with the hint of a black pullover underneath, and he smelled of beer, soap, and something else, like hickory smoke or burnt sage.

His trademark smirk made a ghost of an appearance, though, and that darkness in his eyes was showing itself. She shuddered.

"Carter." He spoke simply, matter-of-factly. Just as with the last time, it wasn't 'Joss,' but 'Carter.' He was still angry. She knew it. And now, she had nothing to say in response to it.

"John...I..."

"I hear you've been looking for me. How did you find me? Wait, you don't need to answer that. I already know." The Machine was indeed thorough. How had he slipped up when he'd covered his tracks so well?

"Umm, Harold asked me...to come..."

"Did he now? And why the hell would he do that? I have no more business with Harold. That was done six months ago, when I got on a fucking bus and came here. Wait-that's it. That's how you found me. The computers at the bus station. Great. Just great. Well, you found me. Now you can go back to New York and tell everyone I'm alive and well. Hope you have a nice flight, Joss."

He got up to leave, the booze slowing his steps a little. Joss leaped out of her seat in the booth to stop him. "John, wait! Wait...I didn't come all this way just for an attendence report. I came...to bring you back with me." Her voice didn't sound like her own. She felt as she did when she was at school and had to stand up in front of all the class and talk about the Gettysburg Address. But this was John. Why did this happen to her now?

He stopped in his tracks. A wry smile crawled across his face. He looked at her like she was kidding. Then he began to laugh. "Oh, Joss, that's really funny! Best joke I've heard in months! Go back with _you? _Why would I want to do that? Why would I want to do anything with you? Your moral compass is too rich for my blood. Isn't that right, Joss? I mean, don't you still blame me for losing Leila? For getting Syzmanski shot? Well, don't you? Why would you want to go anywhere with someone like me? Hmm? I operate outside your precious law, Joss. Isn't that what the problem was? Still is? _Answer me, dammit!" _He gritted through clenched teeth.

Joss was floundering now. Her heart beat faster, the sweat began to form on her brow. She _knew _that this had been a mistake. She knew that John would be angry with her. Damn letting herself get talked into doing this!

"John, Harold came to me and asked me if I would come here to try and...and..."

She was at a loss for words. She knew it would be hard to face him, but she never imagined it like this, where she was so tied up in knots she just wanted to run away.

"And it wasn't even your idea," he sneered. "Of course, it wasn't. You know, you really ought to let Finch do his own dirty work. You've got too much to lose. You don't need to be neglecting your duties as a mother for his benefit. I'm a big boy. Taylor isn't. Is he okay with you being out here?"

A spark of indignation was lit in Joss' spirit at his evoking Taylor into this. That was an uncalled for low blow.

"My son is fine, thank you very much. And I'm not neglecting my duties as a mother. Slow your roll, John." She pointed her finger at him in warning.

"Fine. I'm glad. All the same, I'm not going anywhere with you. Sorry you wasted your money and time. It was nice...to see you. Goodbye, Joss. The buffalo burgers are really good. You'll like 'em."

He stumbled slightly, and slowly sauntered back toward the bar. He stopped in his tracks, though, when he heard her audibly say, "just as well. Once a cowardly drunk, always one."

He turned. "What did you say, lady?"

"You heard me. You're a coward and a drunk. It's the same damn thing as it was back home. That's the way I found you, remember? You came to my precinct just like you are now, drowning in booze and running away from your problems. Yeah, it's just as well, John. You can dismiss me all you want. But you _can't _dismiss what I'm saying to you! I'm going. Can you tell Sam I'm sorrry about the order? Good luck, John. You fucking need it." She left her money on the table, got her things together, and prepared to storm out of the bar, when she felt a hand, strong like a vice, clamp around her arm and spin her around like a top.

"Come here," he growled. He led her toward the back entrance of the bar, outside. Joss tried to wrangle out of his grasp, but it only seemed to make his grip tighter, even through the thick coat.

"John! John, what are you doing? Get off me!" He slightly shoved her out the door into the cold air. His eyes glittered with drunkenness and cold rage as he weaved back and forth, looming towards her.

"How dare you? Hmm? How dare you come here and say that to me? You got some nerve, lady, you know that? If you were anybody else..."

"If I was anybody else, what, John? What are you gonna do? You know what? You aren't going to do anything, because you know what I'm saying is true."

"You know what I know, Joss? You're a bitch. You're a rule-toting, cold fish bitch. I hope that keeps you warm at night, all that by-the-book nonsense. Probably all that does, now that I think about it." He shot that at her to hurt her. Jenni had ticked him off, but Joss went for his guts and twisted, and he wanted to do it back to her, wound her at the core like she had him.

But at his foul insult, Joss did him one better. Not having time to react with the devastating tears his words would otherwise inspire, her body responded in anger instead. Catching him off guard, she spun around and punched him hard in the mouth. Call her a cold bitch, would he!

"Ah, there we are, Detective. Nice punch. You've been sharpening your fighting skills, I see. Well come on. Take another swing at me. Come on, Joss. Let's see what else you got."

He was actually challenging her to a fight? Out here in this cold, howling wind and snow squalls? She could barely see, but she knew his bulk was coming towards her, even stumble drunk. She had no choice but to swing at him again. This time she connected with the side of his head, hitting him hard on the ear. She tried to maintain her fighting stance, but John hadn't been good at his job for nothing. He'd had enough of playing with her. "Got any more, Joss?"

"You haven't had enough?" She tried to maintain her cool, but she could feel that the tide had turned in his favor, and he hadn't raised a hand to her.

She was right. She went for the next swing, but John simply let his reflexes do the work, and he snaked his hand out to stop her before she connected. He pulled her into his arms in a bear hug, wrapping himself around her so as to imobilize her body, preventing further attempts at blows. Ignoring the spark of warmth that went through her body at his proximity-the closest she'd ever experienced with him-she began to struggle against him to free herself. However, much like a fly caught in a web, the more she fought, the tighter his grip became.

"John, no! John...let me go...no! Stop it, now..." She writhed against him, whimpering in protest. But he wouldn't let her go. He just held her, just let her struggle until she got tired and her writhing slowed.

"John, please...let me go...it's cold, John..."

He looked at her with those glittering, darkened eyes. "No, I don't think I will just yet." At that moment, he dipped his head and let his lips brush hers gently, whisper softly at first. When he heard her whimper again, he took full advantage of her mouth this time, a sense of urgency, of need, transmitted from his lips to hers. The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, his grip tighter on her body, helping to shield her from the cold wind as well as ignite fire in every part of her body. Her lips parted on another whimper, and he took his chance to slide his tongue into her mouth. _Oh, God, oh God, oh, God, yes..._his mind and heart shouted at her surrender, at her sweet taste. And as for his dick...if she hadn't the thick parka on, he could show her what effect she was having on him there. He could show her how close he was to exploding, just from kissing her.

He groaned as she managed, through some superhuman feat, to pull away from his hypnotic lips, and at what she fancied to be the look of smugness in his face, she came to her senses-and spat at him.

Whatever tenderness or expression of care he had been transitioning towards shriveled and died at her action. _No one _had ever spat in his face before. Not even the most despicable characters he'd encountered during his days in Special Forces or the CIA. There was no thought in his next move, only rage and hurt pride, only indignation and a drive towards retribution.

Taken aback, but not missing a beat, his eyes widened with madness, and before Joss knew it, one of his large hands clamped round her neck while his foot tripped her, causing her to lose footing and end up on her back on the ground, with him atop her. She screamed and tried to buck him off her, but he had the advantage of weight and upper body strength on his side. She then attempted to frantically pummel him across the head and face, which only enraged him more, and he released her neck only to manacle her wrists with his hands, raising her arms above her head.

"Damn you...damn you, don't you ever, _ever _do that again! Do you hear me, Joss Carter? You will never spit in my face again! No one spits in my face!"

"Fuck you!" she swore at him, with all the venom she could muster in her current predicament.

"At one point, I would have wanted that, yes. But not if you're going to be a filthy witch who behaves like this. Now, apologize."

"No! You had no right to bring me out in this cold weather to manhandle me. Now, get off!"

"Apologize, I said! Now!" he bellowed at her.

"No! I have nothing to apologize for! You're a bastard, John Reese, and I wish I hadn't t let Finch talk me into this. You aren't worth the trouble! Ow...ow! John, no..."

He had roughly turned her over on her belly and brought her hands back behind her, causing her to wail in pain. At this point, something in her broke, something deep in her spirit, and she began to sob. She couldn't believe he was treating her like this. John had been the man to save her life from Bottlecap in the alley. He'd been the one to call her and check in on her at the ends of her shifts. He'd been the one to always remind her to wear her vest on stakeouts.

He'd been the one to always tell her that, no matter what, she wasn't alone.

So why did she feel as if she was exactly that? What had happened to him in these last six months? It couldn't have just been the drinking. She'd seen him under the influence of booze before, and it hadn't dragged him down quite like this. Where was the John Reese she'd grown to care about so much?

Her spoken words now reminded him of something else he'd once told her, and the effect was more sobering than any other remedy for drunkenness could ever be.

"John...stop...please...you once told me you'd never hurt me...remember? Do you remember? You swore...you swore you'd never hurt me. But now, you are. You are, John. You're...you're hurting me...please stop. Please don't hurt me..." she blurted out between her tears.

He froze. Her words were like a spear to his heart, which had indeed grown colder than the swirling winds around them now. He had promised her that, just as she said, and he'd meant it, every word. But that was in New York, where he'd had a purpose in the numbers, a purpose that had extended to her and her son. In Golden, he didn't have that grounding influence-only nightmares, only isolation, save for Sam, Jenni, and Bear. He was different, perhaps even more unreachable than he had been at Jessica's death, and now, he had to face that. Now that Joss was there, pleading with him to stop hurting her, he most certainly did.

"Oh, God, Joss. Honey...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You're right, honey. I made you that promise. Oh, God..."

When she felt him relent, she scampered away from him in panic and began to run. She didn't know where she was going; she just knew she needed to get away from him. John, realizing her fear, called for her.

"Joss! Joss! No, don't go! Don't run, Joss. Please! It's not safe! Joss, come back!"

The snow was beginning to sting now, and visibility was getting worse. She didn't care. She just had to get away from him. He followed, calling her name and begging her to stop running. She ended up on the road towards his cabin, just weaving back and forth, trying to find her way, but having not been to the area before, had no clue. She just ran-until she tripped over a tree branch and scraped her knee deeply against a jagged rock. She howled in pain on rhe ground with John right behind her. They were but mere feet from the cabin.

"Joss, sweetie, I'm here. It's okay. Come on, come here." He moved to look her over, checking for wounds before picking her up in his arms.

At first, she pushed against him, but when she saw the bleeding scrape on her knee, she relented, feeling rhe throb just as keenly.

"Mmm...John, my purse, my luggage. I have to get the Impala and go...my hotel. THE Golden Arms." Let me go...I don't need you. I need my things...my things. Hotel..."

"Don't worry about that. We'll get your things. But you won't make it to The Golden Arms in this weather. My cabin is here. What color is the Impala?"

"Dark blue," she answered. "I can go. I can do it, John . Leave me!"

Some of his irritation returned. "I'm not leaving you out here, Joss. Don't be a fool."

He brought her to the front door of the abode and took her inside, lying her down on the sofa pullout. After looking at her knee in the light, he went for the first aid kit in rhe kitchen, and made a phone call to Sam.

Hey, Sam, I need your help. Ask Millie to cover for you for a little while. The woman who knows me, Joss? I need you to go out back, find her purse, and then look for a dark blue Chevy Impala rental and drive it down here when you find her keys inside her purse. I'll store it in the back shed, next to my truck. Her luggage is in back. ...yes, yes...she's going to be here with me for the indefinite future, until the storm passes. It's okay. We...talked for a little bit...look, just do this for me, okay? Call me when you get here. See ya."

He turned his attention back to Joss. She had suddenly fallen asleep, bloody and gashed knee and all. Her hair splayed across the pillow, her body was snug in her coat. She looked so tired, yet so peaceful as she lie in his bed. Joss. In his bed. A dream he'd dreamed for months was now real. He'd only wished it had been under better circumstances.

He walked over and sat next to her to wait for Sam and to clean her wiund as best he could. Bear came in from the back hall and came over to sniff the visitor until John shooed him away. Reaching over to stroke her hair, he felt the start of tears come to his eyes. He had hurt her. Yes, he'd been angry, but that was no excuse for his own behavior. He was sorry, so very sorry and she had to know that. She just had to.

"I'll make this up to you, honey," he whispered. "I promise. I promise. Don't you worry. Everything will be all right. Soon as Sam gets here."

**A/N: So the tussle behind the Squarehouse was inspired by John and Fusco's rainy fight scene from "Lethe" in S3. John is grieving Joss' death, and, after the caper with Alonzo Quinn, he ends up in a bar in CO, and it's Fusco that Finch sends to get John back. They have that fight in the back of the bar, as Fusco tries to get John to snap out of his funk. Here, Joss is Fusco, with a slightly different result, of course, but I definitely got this idea for the story from that episode. Loved how Lionel was able to get in some good hits, even though he was essentially fighting The Terminator, haha! **

**Next on, John and Joss begin to get reacquainted, and do what they can to fight desires as cabin fever becomes a factor with the weather (because he does have a girlfriend, no matter how he dogs her out cuz he's in love with another woman, who just happens to be in his house now!) Though it may not have seemed so this first part of the story, there's a reason why it's M rated, just in case, haha! **

**Have a gander, leave a comment, and I thank you for the indulgence. Be well, all!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So, after a harrowing reunion and chase, Joss is now tucked in her coat, passed out on John's pull out sofa bed. Because of the storm, she'll have no choice but to wait it out with him until it passes and begins to melt a bit. That could take a while. My, whatever could these two (and Bear) get into to pass the time? Actually, much of this chapter will be an inventory of John's cabin, and how Joss gets a new insight into her friend John by checking out his place. A long slog of writing for "atmospheric" purposes. Good fun writing that, I had! John has an eye for the sensitive, wilderness man cave, most definitely!**

**Drop your lines if you feel, and thanks once more. Here we go!**

After John had carefully rolled up her flared jean leg to her knee, he took antiseptic liquid and gauze out from the first aid kit to clean Joss' wound. Luckily, it looked as if it was nothing more than a rather nasty scrape that should heal up nicely, which was certainly a good thing, considering the alternative. After he was satisfied that it was clean, he covered it with a waterproof bandage and rolled her pant leg back down. He'd offer her laundry services in the morning for the dirt and blood co-mingling in the fabric. She didn't stir.

From there, John removed Joss' low heeled boots, and gently began to rub her feet in case of cold- in stark contrast to his rough behavior just moments before-and as he did so, he heard a rap on the front door of the cabin. Bear barked at attention, and went over to investigate. John went to answer it too, and found Sam, covered in a fine dusting of snow, holding the handle of a large blue suitcase and a backpack, along with a purse and something else in a paper handle bag.

"Good lord, this here gal must have brought her whole closet with her! Women and packin' for travel! Nothin' but a lesson in overkill." John quickly shut the door behind him, cutting off the howl and blow of the fierce winds.

"Well, it's a long way from New York, Sam. A lady never knows what scenarios she'll find herself in. Hey, thanks for bringing everything. And the rental car?"

"It's out there," Sam said, impatiently, in a falsetto whine. "How do you think I got all this here? Smooth ride, that's for sure. Better get it in the shed with the truck soon, though, or it won't be any good to her or the place she got it from. Impala, huh? Good ole Chevy. American car. She's got taste."

"She's a veteran, like us, Sam. Two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Patriotism, service, helping others, it runs in her blood." John looked over at her admiringly, a look that was not lost on Sam.

"You know, John, I saw and heard some of that there ruckus outside the bar. You wanna tell me what that was all about? Your daddy didn't raise you to hit on women, soldier or not, no matter what fool thing they done, and you know that."

John shrugged his shoulders sheepishly, ashamedly before gazing at his feet. "Would it help if I said she started it?"

While he set Joss' things near the wall, save for the paper sack, Sam gave him such a side-eyed glance he looked like he had vision problems all of a sudden. "Naw, it wouldn't. Now, in the brief time I've known her, I've taken a shine to this little lady, especially since I indeed did see her land that punch across yer face, and I don't know if it's such a good idea if she stays here with you, since you like being so rough with her. Maybe she oughta bunk up at my spot, in the loft. Just as well till this storm passes."

'The loft' was a ramshackle cot and blanket set up above the bar that was really just big enough for Bear to sleep in. Somehow, John doubted that such an arrangement would be amenable, either-though she might just be willing, if it meant she didn't have to stay with him after everything that happened.

It was of no matter. He'd decided. She'd remain in the cabin with him. There was nowhere else. And he wasn't going to let her risk her life getting stuck in a blizzard drift trying to get to a hotel she wouldn't be able to see anyway, what with the visibility being what it was. Old badgers like Sam were used to Rocky Mountain winters, so it was no nevermind to him. Joss was used to New York winters, which, while bad, had benefit of ready snowplows, sand trucks, and the like. Golden had that, too, but it had to get rough enough for crews to use them.

No, she was staying put. He'd never, ever forgive himself if something happened to her out there. He'd done enough to hurt her already.

"I think she'll be okay, Sam. It's not the first time we've fought, though never quite so fiercely. It's all right. I won't hurt her again. Besides, the next time, she'd surely shoot me, if I tried," he said with a mirthful smirk.

Sam was intrigued. He wanted to know more about Joss, and just how his surrogate nephew happened to get so mixed in with her. She'd said she was a detective back in New York. But John was no cop, and she seemed very much a by-the-book kind of woman, even if she did assail his boy.

Never one to mince words, Sam just came out with it. "What's your deal with this one, John?" And then, in a more hushed tone that was more about macho posturing than discretion, "Was she fuckin' you back in the Big Apple? Maaaan, you lucky sumbitch. That must be some gooooood pussy right there. Mmph!"

"Cut it out, Sam," John said, irritably. "You wanna watch your damn mouth? She's right here, man." Sam had a way of cutting things right down to the bone. Usually, it was refreshing; right now, John felt the heat of embarrassment crawl up his neck and he wanted to throw the old man out in the snow.

Nevermind that he'd made the very same hypothesis about Joss' and sex himself months ago.

Sam walked over to the still Joss. "Aw, she ain't heard nothin'. Out like a light." Upon closer inspection, he sucked his teeth and turned to John. "Hey, did you say she fell asleep, just like that?"

"Yeah, why?" John asked.

"Because it looks to me like she's more likely fainted than fell asleep the normal way. And seeing how quickly it happened after your rumble outside, I'd say she's worn out. Travel all that way, no food all day, then tussling with you-if I was you, I'd try to revive her and get a meal into her, get that coat off her. Here," he said, handing John the paper bag, "I brought her food over that she paid for. Wake her up. Try to have her eat a little."

John stared at Joss after Sam's loose prognosis. He could see beads of sweat on her forehead, and in her sleep, she quietly whimpered, and she seemed slightly restless.

"Hmm, maybe you're right, Sam. Look, thanks again for doing that for me. I know you left the bar unattended, so I'll take care of things here for now. Have her sit up and have some supper, maybe talk about what happened, if she wants to. She should be fine. We'll be fine."

Sam knew his surrogate nephew wanted time alone with the pretty little detective. Not so much as he could blame him. If he were about 40 years younger, he'd have been all over her, or at least would have damn sure tried his luck. And he could see it, from the very first, that John was fond of her, deeply, even if he'd tried to play the goddarn caveman with her.

"All right, all right, John, I'm goin'. Gotta get back to the bar anyway, or Millie will call out the National Guard or somethin'. I'll be camped down there out of this storm, if anything goes down. You got enough provisions? Firewood?"

"Yeah, we're good, Sam, extra loaded on firewood from my chop last week, and the generator's in good working order, if need be. Thanks again. I'll give a call over the bar in a bit, see if you're okay."

_Yep, young buck wants to get rid of me, all right. Practically shoving me out the door, _Sam grinned silently.

"I appreciate the concern. I'll see myself out. You take care of that little gal, you hear, John?"

"Will do. Be safe, Sam. Good night."

When Sam opened the door, a gust of wind blew through the cabin. John forcefully pushed the door closed, and the combination of cold air and sound caused Joss to stir, and then waken. When he heard her moan, he slowly turned and walked over to her tentatively and sat down. Her eyes widened upon seeing him, and she tried to get up, her hair a mess of tangle all over her head, her lips parted in mild worry. She was beautiful. And the desire John always held for her unfurled itself inside him and stretched, like Bear did after a long lie in next to the fire.

"No...need to go to my hotel. Finch...Finch will be worried about me...need to get out of here...where am I...ohhhh..."

Her flurry of speech broke off as she tried to sit up and move, only to be slammed by a wave of dizziness, which knocked her back down.

John tried to soothe her. "Shh, Joss. You can't go. It's too dangerous. The weather's getting worse. Don't worry about Finch, he'll make do. I'm more worried about you, actually. You're very weak right now, Joss. Now, I'm going to heat up some food for you, all right? You'll get your strength back, and then you can get settled in. Time for touching base with Harold will come."

"Settled in? John, where...where am I?"

He gave her a tiny smile. "You're here with me at my home, Joss. This is my cabin. Welcome."

"Why am I here, with you?"

"Because you're here, all alone, and I want to help you. I want to keep you safe."

"I don't understand. You...you hurt me, John, both emotionally and physically out there, just as I said. You don't want me here. Why are you helping me after what happened?"

John took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Joss. I lost my temper...I didn't mean what I said and did. You know...I would never want to hurt you, on purpose. Just...a lot of things hit me at once. Wasn't expecting to see you there, nor anywhere, ever again, after how we left things in New York that day in the park. And since I didn't exactly ask to be found, yeah, I was a little taken aback at your sudden presence. Surely, you can understand that. Plus, like you said, I had been drinking. But I would never want to hurt you. Please believe that, Joss."

"You certain about that? Because you did your best, for sure. But," she said, her hooded eyes downcast with shame, "my own behavior towards you was pretty hurtful as well. I'm sorry, too, John."

"We both said and did some hurtful things, Joss. But we're here now for the forseeable future, so, in the interest of peace, I'm willing to let it go if you are. Truce?"

He extended a hand, which she, in her weakened state, accepted. "Okay, John. Truce."

"Good. Now to get you fed. Sam brought over your burger and fries from the bar, but I haven't eaten either, so I was going to heat up a soup that I made last night. Would you like to join me?"

Joss suddenly remembered how hungry she was. With her dizziness in tow, it was imperative that she indeed eat a good meal, or a few, to feel up to snuff again. It wouldn't do for her to get sick so far away from home, John or no John.

"Yes, I would. But first, can I use your bathroom? Need to go potty, change my clothes," she said, with a shy grin.

Never a more adorable woman had John ever seen with that shy smile. Maybe they would both survive this, relatively unscathed, after all. Of course, she'd only been there with him a little over an hour, after six months of no contact, and everything certainly wasn't done and dusted between them-but this was a nice beginning. Much nicer than he feared it would be.

"Sure, Joss. You need some help?"

A flicker of recognition passed over both of them at his question. It was the same one she'd asked him when he had been hauled into her precinct.

She extended her hand again. It was soft, delicate-not the hand of a rough n stuff NYPD homicide detective. John took it, and let his thumb run a light circle across the space between her thumb and forefinger. The jolt of excitement hit throughout various places in her body, weakened state be damned.

"Mmm, yes, I do. Unlike you, I'm not afraid to admit it." She winked at him.

John ran his other hand through his hair, humorously thinking back to all the times his stubborn detective tried to shoot down his unorthodox methods for catching a perp-only to see the error of her ways when the bastard was left gift wrapped for her at the front door, no questions asked. A few of those showing up every few days aided strongly in her finally being able to trust him, to let her see that he was on her side. It worked well. They worked well. Together. Until Leila...

Derailing his train of thought from the dark tracks it was headed on, John merely shook his head and raised his eyebrows, the eyes beneath them sparkling with mirth once again. "Okay, Detective, you win. I'm the cold fish bitch, not you. So how about we start by getting you out of this coat? Good choice, by the way."

"Oh, about that, John Reese. Just because we're going to be nice to each other now, doesn't mean I've forgotten what you said. I will get you for that. I don't know how yet, but I'll think of something. 'Cold fish bitch.' Where'd you come up with that one? Especiallly when I am probably the hottest woman you know?"

Had John been drinking anything at that moment, he'd have surely choked on it. It warmed him to know that her sharp tongue was still firmly planted in cheek. No wonder Sam had taken such a shine to her.

Not one to be outdone, however, as he unzipped the heavy jacket and gently pulled her arms out of it, he remarked, with his smirk on full power now, "can't argue with that, Detective. Wouldn't even try. I'll be sure to watch my back. Thanks for the warning."

Now, it was Joss who was glad she wasn't drinking anything.

##

Joss had to admit that this sprawling cabin of John's was rather impressive, as he gave the tour of the place before her freshen up in the bathroom, and not at all what she would have expected the decor to look like in the home of her bad ass _Man in the Suit. _The living room area was the largest room by far, with the full on sofa bed he had placed her on taking up the space of the front, brick-panelled wall facing the front door. The sofa bed was covered in cozy, with not only a thick blanket, but a patterned, multi-colored quilt, and colorful throw pillows one could get buried in, including one in the pattern of a peacock. If he actually used it as a sofa, it would be royal blue in color, with wooden arm rests. Near the door, in front, and parked at an angle sat a brown leather loveseat, also adorned with a quilt on top and small throw pillows.

A large blue Oriental rug covered the wooden slat floor. Because the room was so big, he had been able to split it in half, for maximum use, with the other side serving as his kitchen and dining area. His small yet sturdy wooden table sat four chairs. It was in need of a new coat of shellac, but his use of an intricately woven white doily and a single stemmed fake rose in a vase took the shabby out of it rather nicely. Next to the vase rested a blue ceramic bowl of real apples, and two fat molten candles stood on platters nearby.

Splitting that area in half was the brick and cobblestone fireplace, which was the dog's-named Bear-favorite lounging spot. John explained that the husky had a doggie bed, but he never used it. It was the fireplace for him, especially in the chilly temps, and nowhere else. On ocassion, he'd find the dog asleep on the small bed John made up in his "guest room" upstairs, but that was rare. There was an expansive ceiling light and fan for summer weather, but he hardly used it, seeing as there were table lamps near the sofa bed on end tables next to the sofa bed. Wooden beams held the foundation together, and the roof formed a triangular pattern in parts. He hardly used any lights during weather like this, as the glow, he found, often clashed with the illumination from the fireplace. Lamps weren't necessary.

In the kitchen area, she noticed an open pantry stocked with all kinds of dry herbs and spices in small knit bags, sacks of sugars, wheat flour, rice, bottles of oils, and the like. Other food stuffs, such as canned peaches, he kept in another, closed cupboard or the fridge, as needed. The pantry resided over a replica of a cast-iron, pot-bellied stove like her grandmother down south used to have. But while her grandmother used wood her stove, this one looked to be hooked up to a gas line, with temp controls. Centered, across from the stove, was an island for preparing meals, along with hanging stew pots, frying pans, baking pans, muffin tins, cooking utensils, and cutlery arranged in stainless steel jars. She hadn't seen a double basin sink in a kitchen since she was a child, at home, but John had one. Of course, there wasn't a dirty dish to be found anywhere.

He also had an oft-painted white open cupboard for dishes, glasses and cups on the side of the island, and his well-worn, stainless steel coffee pot, once belonging to his mother, sat atop a striped tea towel on top of the dish cupboard. Across the way resided his old-fashioned-to her, at least-refrigerator, a dingy off-white in color, with a heavy black handle for pulling. The only adornment on it she saw were a few copies of target practice sheets, with bullet holes straight through the bullseye, on each one, multiple times. He hadn't put his guns away being out there, that was for sure, she figured.

The windows, covered in plain yellow curtains, were few, but large. The one across from his stove led to a back room, with cobblestone walls just like the fireplace, where John hung laundry when necessary, though he had a small washer dryer set up there. Additionally, there was a large freezer for storing meats and other items, most helpful during a time like this when getting out to a market or grocery was difficult, if not impossible. Behind the clothes line resided an old fashioned bathtub, with a hand cranked pump set up expressly for it, and decked out with a tattered wooden armoire full of towels, soap, shampoo, and sponges. Three bath rugs hung neatly on hooks above the tub, on the wall.

It was fairly large tub, and John explained to Joss that he took quite a few baths during the week since he had the time, and as she well knew, a shower could only go so far. He dumped the water outside or in the kitchen sink using a metal bucket. Repetitive motion could be murder on the back, but he was good with it. Kept the muscles on point, and if it meant he could have his baths, it was a small price to pay. A good soak was often heaven on earth to people in their line of work. She'd made a note to avail herself of it as soon as possible.

They moved back through the cabin. John took her towards where the upper level was, but in order to reach upstairs it was necessary to go through a door way cut into a wall, leading to the entryway of a decently sized spiral staircase, like the kind one would see in an old castle, but bigger. However, before they even did that, he showed her one more room, also tucked behind a door in the wall.

This room was where movies and music happened, his den, of a sort, and Joss was tickled at learning more about him through this room. Everything in it could have been sold on an auction site or put in a modern history museum. He had an old school film projector and the old school reels to play on it. Titles like "Jaws," "It's a Wonderful Life," "Citizen Kane," and numerous others were all organized in rows on a shelf cart next to the projector, which faced a wall across from it. An old knit couch with more pillows sat behind the projector.

At another wall were two combined bookcases, filled with books on various subjects, and of various ages: classic literature, philosphy, military history, how-to guides, American history, and sports biographies. He'd read most of these books at some point during his life, as his mother had instilled a love of reading into him as a boy. Not something Joss would have known about him as they fought bad guys in New York. Harold would have been impressed.

There was no television to be seen in the room, but she did spy an old fashioned wooden built-in record player that might have had a TV in it at one time. John had LPs and 45s in his stash, and Joss took the liberty of flipping through some, finding music of all ages and types in his collection: 50s do-wop, 60s and 70s r n b, opera, soul, jazz, bluegrass, classic rock, blues, even a little metal and hip hop. And he didn't just have the stuff there, he played it, frequently, whenever he went in there to read, which was often. He had, and his parents had, been lovers of music in their time, frequenting record shops and such in their travels when he was a kid. Even though his dad had served multiple tours in Vietnam, he was quite the culture bug, and John picked up on that as much as he could. Some of these recordings he'd picked up during his time in the Agency as imports, one of the few personal luxuries he could allow himself to indulge in.

His walls here, as they had been in some measure in the outer room, were adorned with replicas of still life, French Impressionist paintings, a framed American flag, and what she now knew were photos of his family, both black and white and faded color. She recognized his parents immediately from the pictures Harold had shown her, and there were more that featured himself with other children, him in his Eagle Scout gear, and his adventures on the basketball court in high school.

There were also other tidbits on the wall she saw, like his father's medals of valor for service on the battlefield, and his mother's Bachelor's degree in teaching. All of these things gave her another perspective on John Reese. He had indeed had another life, another way of being to the man she knew from his record, even the way he operated in New York. _Perhaps these things, these objects and their significance have been part of what makes him the good man I know him to be, despite his demons, _she thought.

If she ever wanted to watch a film or borrow a book, she was more than welcome, he told her. He even had popcorn to share. She'd take him up on it, she said.

Soon, it was time to head upstairs, and John led the way up the spiral staircase, Bear in tow. It was his house, too, and he wanted to be in on the tour for their new house guest. When they reached the landing, John led her to the bathroom and the shower, decked out simply, but with care, just as he'd done downstairs.

The walls were painted white, and indeed, there was only a small shower with no tub. The sink was deep basined like in the kitchen, but it was a bit of a wreck, with some of the wall plaster knocked out behind it. A work in progress, he said, one of his home projects. The in-wall linen closet was stocked with enough towels and cloths and other supplies, but he made space there for her to put her things if she wanted. A scented candle rested on top of the spotless toilet, and the floor was seemingly clean enough to eat something off it. Not a dog hair in sight. _Yep. The military will make a man clean like that, _she thought.

There was the small bedroom down the hall, which she assumed would be hers. He put the light on, as it was fully dark now, even with the now blinding snow blow outside. It looked fine enough with the fulsome twin bed and the plaid pattern bedspread, bedecked with just three pillows this time, though he didn't put as much work into this room as with downstairs. It had a small painted dresser and a mirror in front of the bed, with a small, ornate lamp, and his mother's old rocking chair covered with a black shawl near the small window there, as well as a tiny closet. There was green floral patterned wallpaper, which she guessed had been there for quite some time. The throw rug had a US Army logo on it.

The only issue she had with this room, with the hell going in outside, was that it was freezing. There was a draft coming through the window. If she was going to sleep there, that tartan spread wouldn't cut it. He had more blankets, he told her. Not a problem. And he apologized in advance for the draftiness. He never used the room himself, just aired it out and kept it tidy, so he could forget how chilly it could get in there.

The last room he showed her was "his" room. It was even smaller than the guest room, and she imagined that it had been his room when he stayed there as a boy. There she found his weight equipment, boxing gloves, and jump ropes. There was a gun display on the wall, with three rifles, a double barrel shotgun, his revolver that she recognized, binoculars, and two hunting knives. She wondered if the reason why he had that big freezer downstairs was because some of the meat in it he went out and shot down hunting. He also kept his clothes in this room.

At that point, the major parts of the tour concluded.

"Wow, John. This is great, what you have here! It seems...very cozy. I can see why you'd come here to regroup and get away from...stress." She was going to say 'me,' but that still hurt quite a bit, so she swallowed it back instead.

"Yeah, it's always been special to me. Seemed perfect after losing the baby to Elias...and you, too."

"Umm, did you always live here growing up?"

"No, this was just a place my parents got dirt cheap when I was really small. When my mother died, it was left to me. Because I was legally dead, it was tricky holding on to it. But once I started working with Finch, we found a way for me to anonymously pay the taxes on it. So long as that happened the local officials didn't care who owned it. So, it's still mine. We spent summers, holidays here. Much of it is as it was, but I've put a bit of work into it, mostly on the exteriors. Not so dirt cheap anymore-but still a sight cheaper than if I had this cabin in the Adirondacks."

"I can see that. Well, it's really, really cool, John."

He smiled warmly, his gaze on her intense through the smile. "I'm glad you like it. See, better than The Golden Arms, right? Well, I better go get supper started. You still want your grub from Sam? It might be cold now, not so nice for you."

"Nah, I'll have some soup. What kind?"

"Carrot, apple, and curry soup. I've had some curry powder in my stash I've been needing to use, so there we are."

"I thought that's what I smelled, over the firewood smoke, of course."

"Ah, you should have been here yesterday. It was wonderful when I first made it. Okay, well, you do what you need in the bathroom, and I'll get supper started. I have German chocolate cake from the market for dessert. Sound good?"

Joss was beginning to like this camping out with John thing with each passing minute. "Sounds great. Thank you."

"Okay. Good." He continued to smile at her. "Right then, I'll see you when you're done. Any questions about anything, just give a shout downstairs. I'll hear you."

"I should be fine, but thanks. Okay. Off to the showers! See you, John."

John walked to the hall doorway and exited, ducking his head so as not to bump himself, Joss wouldn't have that problem, but, at 6'2", it was second nature for him to be wary of the stairwell.

He arrived at the kitchen island with the imagery of Joss on the shower, the warm water running down her mocha body, the soap cascading through her legs and thighs, from her secret core. She had shampoo with her, so she'd be washing her inky black hair too. He'd love a chance to see her with wet hair, a chance to run his fingers through it and find the curls he knew she had. Hell, he'd love to be the one with her in the shower. Or better yet, his tub in back. Yes, that would be a much better fit for the two of them.

He remembered their kiss as he soaped up and washed his own hands. His lips still tingled with the memory, his tongue with her taste. And she'd responded. Her lips had parted and let him in, until she gotten wind of her senses-and spat at him.

That still rankled him a little, he had to admit-but he had behaved like a jackass, and she had been caught off guard. Not the most cordial course of retaliation; however, he understood.

He dried off and went over to the freezer for the soup, and the bread bin for the hard wheat loaf he'd also baked. Putting them on the island, and reaching for the microwave door, he stopped. Moving away from the island, he scooted back over to the door leading upstairs and went up. He needed to visit his linen closet. For one, Joss would need that extra blanket. And for two, as his ears followed the sweet sounds of her singing over the shower spray, he was suddenly struck by the notion that his cozy sofa bed would, for some reason, need a new change of fresh sheets and blankets.

**A/N: I don't know about you guys, but I wanna live with John in the cabin, haha! Joss certainly seems to be warming to the idea, and hey, he's got enough there, Domestic Don that he is, for her not to get too bored or turned off by the idea. A nice simple supper by candle and firelight to start things off. Hmmm, yes, I think our girl will be just fine. More talk about their issues will come in the next chap, (and throughout the story because they need that), and then they'll revisit the den for some musical fun! From there, who knows what will happen? John **_**is **_**changing his sofa bed linens, heheheh (dirty vigilante dog, he is). **

**I hope this one keeps your appetites whetted. Tension 16 is also in the works, but trying to play a bit of catch up with this one, due to early tech glitches. Thanks again, all! BTW, Carrot, Apple, and Curry Soup, homemade, is delicious. Takes a while to make, but it's worth it. And a pot frozen will feed you for days. Yum yum!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm glad everyone who left a comment on Chap 9 was so cool with the tour of John's abode in the woods. In truth, as I envision it, he's not **_**that**_** remote from the central city, but as SWWoman remarked, Golden isn't that big, so his being out in the wilderrness only goes so far. The landscape changes quickly, is all. Sam's bar can be accessed from the main road leading into town, but John's spread is further down the road from Sam's bar, where town indeed turns to trees and streams and wild animals sometimes. I toyed with the idea of having him truly turn all Grizzly Adams on us, living in a tent and that, but I figured, since he was going "home" in "Lethe," in a sense, I decided to have him be the inheritor of a nice little place his parents left him, one that was not too ostentatious, but nice enough, cozy enough, that Joss would be won over in staying there, and that would actually allow her to get to know more about him. As we know from the show, there **_**is **_**more to John Reese than the kneecapping bad ass, though tragically, Joss doesn't get that far, so him being a bit of a book nerd with old movies and records in his house? Sure, why not! :-)**

**Anyway, this one brings us to supper, storm prep, washed hair, music, and...temptation. Oh-and a phone call or two from Jenni. Yeah, can't forget the "girlfriend"-though John is certainly acting as if he has already!**

**Enjoy, and leave comments, please, if you feel. Thanks again!**

Joss came downstairs after her shower and hair wash feeling like a new woman, even though she was still a little weak from having not had any solid food for hours. She was dressed in a pair of black workout pants, a white baby tee and a pair of cheap flip-flops, ones that showed off her freshly pedicured feet, black polish covering her dainty toes, as it did her fingernails. The aroma of the soup made her mouth water with hunger, and if it tasted anything like it smelled, it would be delicious.

John heard her approach and stepped away from his setting of the table to turn and look at her. His groin tightened almost immediately, the stirring of a different kind of hunger taking hold of him, never to let go. The clothes she picked to wear would do little to facilitate that. Both the workout pants and the baby tee fit her curves like a damn glove, her widened hips and fulsome ass swaying and sashaying with every step as she found her worn clothes bag in her suitcase to put her travel clothes in.

He watched her bend over, and he could just make out the lines of a thong riding up her ass. When she stood up, her fleshy, firmness jiggled seductively, tantalizingly in front of him, just ripe for his hand to give it a few good smacks. Did she like being spanked? How would she react to a hard swat on that luscious bottom? Would she scream? Would she be afraid? Or would she moan and beg for more? His body instantly, undeniably ached to find out. He'd love nothing more, at that moment, than to skip dinner, pick her up, throw her on the sofa bed and learn all about what she liked for certain...

Bear's bark of annoucement at Joss' arrival broke him of his impure thoughts, and he continued with the task at hand. The dog scampered over to Joss, eagerly sniffing away at her, her things, still in the effort to get a read on this strange woman who wasn't Jenni now occupying his home. She giggled at him, and kneeled on the floor to pet and rub him, the first time since she'd been there to have such an opportunity.

John was glad for Bear giving him a change in thought patterns. He smiled, happy that his buddy seemed to be taking a shine to their new guest.

"Ah, he likes you already, Joss. That's good."

"I like him, too, though this is the first time we've been formally introduced to one another. Good boy, Bear. That's a good fella."

He laughed as Bear lapped up the attention the way he lapped up water out of his bowl. His tail wagged eagerly, his tongue hung out of his mouth, and he did his special four-paw shuffle dance, just for her. She also got a few more welcoming barks.

"You're lucky. It took him months to warm up to Sam that way. Every time he'd see him, it was all about wanting to attack. Snarling, barking, the whole bit. The feeling was mutual. But they're good now. For Sam's sake, I'm glad."

"Sam seems quite a character," she said.

"Yeah, he is. Known me since I was born. He was buddies with my dad in Vietnam, originally from Texas, but found himself here when my dad came back after his second tour. Dad went back when mom was pregnant with me, Sam stayed here, looked out for me and mom. I really would have been just a baby then. When the war was over, we got this cabin, and Sam, with no family of his own, came here too, and opened the bar. He's been here ever since. When I lost my dad as a teen, Sam was there to help me through that. And he was here this time..."

Joss stood up, and walked over to the table, Bear following her. She took a deep breath before she spoke. "John...you know why I came here, right? I mean, you remember from the bar what I told you?"

John wiped his hands on a dishtowel. The table was set, including food. He'd also whipped up a salad with homemade balsamic vinaigrette dressing.

"Yeah, I know why you came. Finch pressed your emotional buttons and persuaded you to do something he believed he couldn't. He would have been right about that."

"Well, not exactly-"

He waved a hand, cutting her off. "Let me guess: You had no intentions of coming out here yourself. You didn't even know I was gone for sure, just hadn't heard from me, as you wanted it when we broke off our partnership that day in the park. But one day, recently, Finch came to you with a tidbit of info, the bus station receipts, perhaps, that he got by hacking into their servers, and then told you how you were the woman for the job to get me back. How am I doing so far?"

She couldn't dispute his accuracy. But somehow, though, when he said it back to her like that, it all seemed so much more...sinister, manipulative. Did he really believe that his old friend was that conniving?

"He cares about you, you know. We all do. Even Fusco."

"Hmm, I suppose. But the problem is, Joss, that Harold still believes that this world is capable of being saved, that the people in it, even some of the bad ones, can be. I used to believe that, too, with my whole being. It's why I redeployed when the Towers fell. It's why I became a Green Beret, and an agent for the CIA. But the truth is, in the end, it doesn't work that way. And after what happened with Leila, I know that now more than ever. After the Agency attempted to decommission me, hell, even before that, I lost most of that hope. With Finch, I started to believe again. Then, I had to make a deal with a devil. And Leila lost."

But after a few moments in his reverie, the smirk came to him. "But you say Lionel's been asking after me, too? I find that hard to believe. I'd have thought he'd be glad to see the backside of me, once and for all."

Joss chuckled. "Yeah, so did he. But you know what they say about not realizing what you have until it's gone."

A heavy silence befell them then. Just for a moment, they allowed Joss' words to linger on, each weighing in their hearts just how profoundly such a commonplace sentiment applied to them both.

He spoke first, gesuring with the sweep of his hand to the table. "Well, supper's finally ready. Shall I pull out your chair for you?"

"Why aren't you ever the gentleman, John? I'd be delighted if you would. Thank you."

John pulled out her chair with a grand, exaggerated gesture of chivalry, and Joss sat down to her meal. The soup really smelled delicious, thick and hearty, perfect for a night like theirs. He'd topped it with shavings of cheddar cheese. _Fabulous, _she thought as her belly rumbled in agony.

With only the light of the lit candles and the warm fireplace to guide them, Joss thought she was in some sort of rustic, romantic restaurant, with the perfect date to spend her time with. He had somehow taken the time to slick back his long, tosseled hair away from his face, which made him almost look like he used to, though the length still curled over past his neck a little. He was still wearing the pullover v-neck she remembered from under his coat and jeans, and clothes never fit any man as well as they did John Reese. His height and broad shoulders made it possible, and even though he had acquired a tiny beer belly, it did nothing to diminish the manliness, the masculinity he'd always carried about him. The fact that erudition existed alongside those Alpha male tendencies he exhibited on the streets of New York added one more layer of charisma to this already compelling man, and make no mistake, her senses were heightened by it all.

"Hey, where did you go?" he said softly, almost seductively, after she'd become quiet.

Joss allowed a slow smile to creep across her face, as she put a spoonful of soup in her mouth. "Mmm, John, this soup is delicious."

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it. But you haven't answered my question. What are you thinking about?" He had his stare fixed on her, much like she imagined Bear would if he were waiting for a scrap to fall from the table. His eyes shown silver in the candle light on the table as he waited for her to answer, zeroing in on her like a target. It was the same intensity he gave her when they met up again at the diner and she agreed to work with them-with him possibly being the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen.

"Umm, nothing. It's silly." She scooped another spoonful of soup in her mouth.

"Not silly enough to take you away from the conversation. Come on, Joss. What were you thinking about?"

"Well...it's just something that Fusco told me at the 8th the other day...about...you...and me..." She was suddenly bashful, suddenly warm, and the crackling fire nor the hot soup had anything to do with it.

"Yeah? What did Lionel tell you about me...and you?"

She began nervously twirling her hair, and looked away from him. "He said that...he said...you were...attracted to me..."

She could see him smirking again, as well as allowing a 'you got me' thought cross his mind. He slowly shook his head.

She deflected there, not wanting to step into it anymore than she had already, lest she be making a fool of herself. "Yeah...just Fusco talking crazy like he does...nevermind...nevermind...I don't know why that came to me...like that...um..."

When he didn't say anything, she lowered her head to return back to her soup. At that moment, John apruptly got up, came round to her side of the table, gently pulled her up by her arm and pulled her into his. The soup spoon clattered on the floor as she was swept into his kiss. Almost immediately, his lips landed on hers and his tongue, not waiting for permission, demanded entrance inside her mouth. Joss let out a whimper as her hands splayed across his broad back and he pressed his very evident arousal against the front of her workout pants and flimsy thong. Besides the crackle and pop of the sparks in the fireplace, the only sounds to be heard were the licks and smacks of lips and tongues and the whimpering, soft groaning, and panting emanating from their mouths.

John deepened the kiss even more, his hand finding Joss's hair, which had indeed been transformed into loose curls after her shower, without benefit of a hair dryer. He reveled in its softness, just as he did the softness of her full, gorgeous lips, and the wetness of her mouth. His other hand slid downward and found her ass, and he rubbed and squeezed to the point where she moaned fully this time, inspiring a grunt from him in response. Tiny as she was, it was nothing for him to lift her a couple inches off the floor with one arm, in order to meld her body to his even more intimately than he already had.

He soon broke the kiss to catch his breath and to rest his forehead on hers. They were both wild with need of one another. Joss murmured in protest, which caused John to smile and grin through his catch of breath.

"You know, Lionel is many things, most of which is perceptive. Keenly so. That's why I picked him to work with us, in part. He's perceptive-but he also knows how and when to keep his mouth shut. Well, most of the time, anyway."

"So...he wasn't just fooling around when he told me that? You sure that this isn't still the booze talking from earlier?"

John opened his eyes and matched them up squarely with hers. "Nope. Perfectly sober now. I can do that, you know, for the right reason." After she failed to respond, he heatedly asked, "Dammit, what do you think, Joss?"

"I don't...I don't know..."

"Okay. You don't know. That's fine, then." He shook his head again, still smiling.

"What?"

"Nothing. Hey, I like your hair this way. All pretty and curly. You should leave it like that, maybe." He changed the subject for them. This wasn't safe water for either one of them to be wading in.

"Oh, right. Yeah, my hair. It does that after a wash and condition."

"I like it very much. Listen, I'll get you a new spoon. Your soup will get cold."

So he did, letting her slide down back to the floor, and disintangling himself from her, taking his body heat with him. He left Joss to stand there, wondering what had just happened-again. It was the second time in as many hours that he'd kissed her. Before, she felt justified in retaliating against him for acting like a brute. But this time? That wasn't brutish behavor. That was...that was..._hot. _She touched her lips, felt the twist of her tongue, and the imprint of his big body against hers as if she'd been burned. Most definitely _hot._

While he went for the spoon, she heard a phone ring. It wasn't hers, but his. She saw him take it out of his pocket, look at the caller ID. She thought she saw just a shadow of a frown, or at least a grimmace cross his face at seeing who it was-but he answered anyway.

"Hello?...hi. How's it going? How are you holding up? Good, good...um-hmm, I'm okay here...um, so far no need, but I'll get out with the plow soon for a few rounds, stay on top of it as best I can...yep...um, I don't know...depends on when the storm lets up and it starts to melt...are your parents okay? Everything good there? Yeah...yeah...no, no, look...I said, I don't know...well, because I don't know...the best I can tell you...yeah, yeah..."

Joss tried not to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to. Who was he talking to? She didn't think it was Sam. But then, who?

She quietly slipped behind him and got herself another spoon, and as she did so, he turned to her with that same grimmace, and, as if given a cue to move, he turned his back and walked away from her, towards the upstairs doorway, disappearing into it. The door closed behind him, with him still on the phone.

Joss sat back sat back down at her seat and took some more sips of her soup and bites if bread. She was still hungry-but the empty chair in front of her, with its own half-eaten contents on the table, had her paying more attention to that upstairs door than her appetite.

_Have I walked into something I shouldn't have? _she thought.

In a few minutes, she heard his heavy boot heels come back down the steps and into the living room. Soon, he was back at the table.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Finish up. Dessert awaits, Joss."

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now, eat."

They returned to their meal, finishing up quickly after the interruptions, and dug into the chocolate cake with gusto. Joss offered to clear the table and wash up, but he wouldn't hear of it. She still wanted to know who was on the phone, but she wouldn't pry; it wasn't her place to do so. Instead, she ventured back into to the den and prowled around some more. Bear, officially her canine shadow, got up to follow. Thumbing through the records, she scoured the stacks until she came across one with a track she hadn't heard in years: Earth, Wind, and Fire's "Reasons."

"Ooh, we gonna play this one, Bear. Yes, sir. You know how to dance?"

"He doesn't-but I do. Here, let me put it on for you."

She gave him the record, and he got it set up. Pretty soon, the unmistakable falsetto of Phillip Bailey filled the room, and the rhythm was infectious to Joss' hips.

"Oh, yes, John! You are the man to still have this record. This used to be my _song, _when I was a kid. Oh, my God..."

Her body did dips and spins, and she twisted her hips in a way that would give the best belly dancer a run for her money. John was mesmerized and he couldn't help but join her, his own body falling in sync with hers. She let out a hoot when she saw just how much natural rhythm he had.

"Ooooh, John Reese, look at you! My_ Man in the Suit _can dance too! I love it! She laughed heartily, freely-and his heart soared at the sound. He reached for her again to kiss her, pulling her lower body into his as they danced. His lips connected once before she stopped him.

"John, no...let's just dance. Just dance with me."

He nodded his head. "Okay, but forgive me if I step on your toes a little."

"I'll keep that in mind."

And so, they danced and laughed and danced some more for the next few hours. At the last, John kissed her one last time, quickly, yet deeply, before informing her that he had to get dressed to do some plowing before the snowdrifts wouldn't allow him to, trapping them inside. Bear still needed to go out too, so he'd take care of those things while it was possible, and then see how things were in the morning. She nodded, and said she'd try to get some sleep after the long day.

So, each went their way, John fitting himself in his high performance winter gear, Joss in her cotton nightgown once he'd headed out. She found the heavy blanket he'd left her upstairs. The room was even colder than before, but she'd make the best of it. Getting into bed, the bedspread and blanket wrapped round her, her body crouched in a fetal position, she waged a valiant battle against both the cold and the noise of the plow for another two hours awake before she gave up the damn ghost and headed back downstairs.

"Oh, I don't think so. I can't sleep in that cold-assed room."

Blanket, spread, and pillow in hand, Joss found the recliner in the corner near the fire. Instantly, she felt warm and snug, and the sleepiness that she knew wanted to claim her did so, as soon as she curled her petite body into the recliner and covered herself.

In a little while, John, red faced with cold and exertion, returned inside with Bear, having plowed the front entrance, the path down the road and the shed area, where his truck was stashed, and where he had Joss' rental stored out of precipitation's way, as Sam had left her keys on the end table near the sofa bed. He would have to get up later on to do it again, but for now, that should help keep the snow from completely burying them inside. And he was, frankly, exhausted. The wind was the worst about it all.

Upon entering, though, he was arrested by a sight that broke his heart. There was Joss, curled up in his recliner, fast asleep, tucked in like an innocent little one, her body tiny enough to fit well into the recliner without hanging. _Poor thing. It still must be too cold upstairs, _he thought.

But that wouldn't do. He couldn't have his guest sleeping in a chair. He removed his coat and other winter items, dropping them at the door before going over to unfurl the linens on his sofa bed. Then, he carefully, lovingly picked her up and put her in his bed, removing the blanket and spread that he gave her, and tucked her in. She stirred and moaned in her sleep, but she didn't waken, merely turned on her side and remained still.

He then took her place on the recliner and watched her for several moments before he pulled the covers up he took from her and let sleep take him too.

For some reason, he didn't think the bad dreams would come this night. He didn't know why. Just a feeling he had. Just a feeling. A good one.

**A/N: And just who do you think was on the phone, eh? This a pickle, isn't it? John's not really thinking, just acting on impulse right now with Joss, though he's kind of trying to remember what his situation is. Kind of. And yes, Joss will have to tread carefully here. Because it's just too easy with him. Too easy.**

**But there will be some more fun before the encounter with Jenni. She'll prove to be Super Bitch with Joss-often though, the best strategy is to do nothing in retaliation. We'll see!**

**You guys got spoiled this weekend. I don't usually have time for two chaps in a row. Don't get used to it, haha! No, really, enjoy, and onwards!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: A new day awaits John and Joss in the cabin. More bonding, more talk, more food, a fateful call back to New York (sort of), a haircut, even a little roughhouse. All in a day's work on vacation. Also, Joss makes a painful discovery. Hmmm...**

**A few more pages in this one than previous chaps. Quite a few. Wanted to get all of the above in one place. **

**Still playing catch up. Enjoy!**

Joss woke up to the yummy smells of breakfast cooking in the kitchen, after a lie-in that was the best sleep she'd had in months. Sitting up, she came face to-face with Bear, who had climbed atop the sofa bed, and was sitting on her lap staring at her. She smiled at the pooch who most assuredly had developed a bit of puppy crush on her. But then, that made her wonder how come she was in the bed in the first place, when she knew she had come downstairs to sleep on the recliner.

"Bear, you know what? I think our pal John was behind this." When she saw the rumpled blankets on the chair, she knew that he was.

The man in question came from behind the wall where the sofa bed was, as soon as he heard her voice. He was now dressed in a black button-down shirt and a new pair of jeans. She also saw that he was barefoot. And a nice pair of feet he had, too.

"Hey, you," he said with a fixed-eyed smile upon seeing her awake. "Good late morning. Breakfast is almost ready. Did you sleep well?"

Joss yawned and stretched. She smiled back at him in return. "Mmmm, I did. This sofa bed is wonderful. So cozy. I slept like a baby," she said, yawning again. "But this isn't where I fell asleep. John, you didn't need to give up your bed for me, you know. I was good in the chair."

"Well," he said with a thoughtful smirk and a shrug, "I'm used to falling asleep on the recliner, on occasion, so it was no big deal. Plus, I had to be upright enough to see about plowing again before dawn. Me being in the chair was an easier compromise. Lighter sleep, and all. Win-win."

He, of course, didn't mention that his 'falling asleep' there had more to do with binges than exhaustion. And no, the bad dreams didn't come the night before. But he wouldn't fool himself into thinking they never would again. That pain was deep in his soul; it was a part of his DNA now, and even if he could be genuinely happier than he'd been in months with Joss' presence in his house, that pain, that deep sorrow would never leave him. Nor would the aching anger he felt for Elias that sometimes still threatened to eat him alive.

But he'd had to make the best of it he could. Since he hadn't ever actually been able to put the gun in his mouth and pull the trigger, and since God continued to see fit to have him wake up each morning to a new sunrise, come what may, he really had no other choice.

"Well, thank you for doing that. But I feel bad about kicking you out of your sleep space. I just couldn't stay in the little room upstairs with the draft. It was freezing, even with the blankets."

John frowned and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I'll try to get in there and do something about that window. In the meantime, I have a space heater I can leave in during certain times of the day, though, as you know, it's not advisable to sleep with one on all night."

"Yeah. Either that, or I become bunk mates with Bear here, and camp out near the fire."

John laughed softly. "I think he'd like that, actually. Wouldn't you boy?"

Bear responded with a hearty bark, and stood up on Joss' lap to give her a nuzzle to the chest.

"Oh, yeah, Joss. He's got it bad. Be careful of him. He's quite the ladies' man."

Joss gave him a hearty scratch behind his ear, which elicited a contented small howl from him. "I can see that. Bear, honey, I need to get up and go to the bathroom, so you're gonna have to move. But don't worry, I'll be back soon. Come on, Bear, honey." When she tried to nudge him off, he wouldn't budge. It took a soft yet stern _Bear, get down! Get down, boy! _from John to make him snap to attention and hop down off the bed. Joss gave a military salute and scampered upstairs, a matter of emergency proportions.

She was get comfortable there already, not afraid to find her way and see to her needs as she would. Good. Very good.

##

When she got back, she found the table set for two, complete with a large stack of pancakes with real maple syrup, a platter of sausage, fluffy scrambled eggs, Canadian bacon, and sliced bananas. There was also coffee and tea generously poured in cups with saucers, as well as glasses of orange juice from the glass pitcher that also sat on the table. On each plate rested silverware, rolled in blue cloth napkins, tied with string. She couldn't remember the last time she'd sat down to such a large breakfast for herself, though she loved pancakes. Even at home, she might cook these items for Taylor, but for herself, a bowl of oatmeal and toast was the thing for her.

But this smelled and looked wonderful, and it seemed perfect for the snowed in day. Yet another thing she was rapidly learning about John: He liked to cook, and more importantly, he liked to prepare comfort food. She had no complaints so far.

"I hope you're hungry, Joss. If I remember correctly, you had a thing for pancakes and real syrup at The Lyric, so here we are."

"Mm, only thing is that I could never be sure if it was real syrup," she snorted. "But those pancakes were still on point. This looks lovely. You shouldn't go to so much trouble, though, John. I appreciate it, but you shouldn't."

He came over to her and gave her a quick yet affectionate hug. "I like to. It's no trouble. Sit down. Eat. Just watch Bear. He'll try to leap the table to steal your sausage."

Bear gave them both a 'who me?' look as they sat down together. As they began serving and passing dishes, Bear made no move to take Joss' sausage. It was as if, just to spite John, he'd do just the opposite of what was expected of him. As a reward for his restraint, John tossed his furry buddy some bacon, which he happily snapped up.

"You spoil that dog, John," Joss said, shaking her head in humor.

Gulping a big bite, mouth full, John remarked, "Out here, he's my brother, next to Sam. I don't see it as spoiling him. He deserves it. And more." He took another big bite of food. He was hungry after such blustery work outside.

Joss chewed slowly, thoughtfully before speaking herself. "John, do you plan on staying here forever?"

"Forever's a long time, Joss. You think I might actually have that long?" He took a sip out of his coffee cup.

She turned her nose up in mock attitude, which brought out the mirth in his eyes above the rim of his cup. "Well, for however long you do have, are you planning on spending that time here?"

John scratched his head and sighed heavily. "I don't know, Joss. I honestly just take this all day by day. But what I can tell you is that I have no plans to return to New York. I know that's what Finch sent you out here for, and I'm very glad you're here, despite our rocky reunion, but I'm afraid he's wasted his money, and you've wasted your time." His silver-blue eyes connected straight on with hers, in an expression that conveyed the unmistakable clearness in what he was saying.

Joss' eyes fell and her heart sank at his words. She had always maintained that this was a possibility, that he wouldn't want to come back with her, but hearing him say it, especially after being so close to him in his orbit, after the way he affected her in intimacy, she had to admit to herself that she was devastated at his declaration. She really was.

"I see," she said quietly. "So, again, you and Bear are just gonna be hermits out here in this little town, with Sam and the sticks? Doesn't sound like your style, John."

He chuckled. "My style? What's my style, Joss? Didn't know I had one."

"Oh, I remember you back in New York, John. Even when I'd beg you to keep your cute little nose out of my investigation, there you were, with it all up in there, had the drop on it even before I did. You like being where the action is, John, being where people need you. This, what you have here is wonderful-but it's not you, not fully you. I know that."

He scarfed down a bite of his eggs, his eyes downcast, before he spoke, quietly, measuredly. "It is me right now, and for the forseeable future. But even if that day comes when it isn't me anymore, which, of course, is a possibility, New York isn't the direction I'd be heading back towards. I'm sorry, Joss. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it wouldn't be fair to you-or Harold-to get your hopes up."

Suddenly, Joss wasn't hungry anymore. She put down her fork, quietly excused herself from the table and walked away, venturing back out into the larger living room area towards the window to absently look out at the piles of snow John made with the plow, some of them as tall as the window itself. The massive storm had done its worst overnight, but the wind was still a factor, and the threat did exist that all of John's hard work with the plow could have been for nothing. Through her sleeveless cotton nightgown, the chill hit her in her bones, but she barely felt it, so crestfallen as she was. Yes, she knew he'd be obstinate, more so than the boys back home-but it still hurt to hear him tell her no. He wouldn't even entertain the possibility.

As she stood there, she could hear the slow padding of bare feet coming towards her. Soon, two large, warm hands gently squeezed her bare upper arms and began to rub them up and down to stave off the chill. At the catch of her sigh, John pulled her slightly back against his chest and nuzzled her cheek, and he, too, now stared out into the swirling, blinding snow.

"But at least now you know where I am, and that for the most part, I'm still in one piece. You can tell Harold and Lionel that when you get back. How does that sound?"

Joss looked up at him. "Mmm, what about Zoe?"

"Zoe? What about her? She missing me, too? I highly doubt that."

"Why? Wasn't she your...friend, too?"

"We had our moments. But I don't think she misses me any. Our moments were ...fleeting."

"Oh."

"I am sorry, Joss."

So am I, John. So am I." She slipped out of his embrace and went for her suitcase and backpack to get ready for a shower. As far as she was concerned, the big breakfast was over. Bear could have her sausage, or whatever the hell else he wanted off her plate.

##

The vibration of her burner phone distracted Joss from the task of rearranging the items she'd packed in her suitcase into some semblance of order after showering and getting dressed earlier on. She had been wondering when the call would come.

"Hello, Harold."

"Detective? Are you all right? With the storm reports, I've been concerned. There's also the minor matter to consider that your hotel reservation has gone unfilled. Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Harold. I'm safe," she said, not sure that she wanted to quite yet spill the beans on where she was. Instead, she asked about Taylor. "How's my boy?"

"He's doing well, Detective. Off at school just now, a test in algebra that I believe he will do well on. Fingers crossed."

"He's usually pretty good in math, so I don't have any worries. Everything else okay? I've been a little out of the loop since I last spoke with you. No Internet, TV, none of that."

"Ah, yes. I suspect that a storm of that magnitude would be discouraging for accessing electronic information. Have you been terribly affected, Detective?"

"Well, not exactly, Harold. I've actually been having a wonderful time here, so far. And no power outages-there's just no TV or computers around."

"I don't follow you, Detective. Where are you, exactly?"

She took a deep breath. "I found him, Harold. John. I'm here, with him, at his cabin in the woods here in Golden, just where you said he'd be."

Joss could hear the catch in his breath through the pause on the other end. "Harold, are you there? You okay?"

He spoke, finally, after a few more seconds. "Y-yes, Detective, I'm here. Oh, my, you don't know what an inordinately good piece of news that is! I knew it, Detective. I knew you could find him, if anyone could! How is he? Is he all right? "

Suddenly, Joss got an idea as she watched John add more wood to the fire and use the poker to keep it under control.

"Hey, Harold, why don't you ask him yourself? John...John come here. It's for you."

John put the poker down and walked over to her, a combination of puzzlement and chagrin expressed on his face. But he took the burner phone anyway.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Reese...is that you?"

"Good morning, Finch. Or perhaps I should say 'afternoon'?"

"Perhaps you should. Oh, my but it is good to hear your voice again, John. I can't...I can't tell you how good it is. I shall have to alert Detective Fusco that I've heard from you as well. He misses you as we all do-though he can't exactly say why that is, considering the pressurized parameters of your relationship..."

John rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as he listened to Harold talk excitedly. "Harold, you're rambling. That's not like you."

"Ah, so it isn't, Mr. Reese, so it isn't. Forgive me. When are you and Detective Carter coming home?"

"Well, Detective Carter will be going home, I suspect, when the plane tickets you got her say she will. As for me, Finch, I am home. I'm not leaving."

Finch paused for a moment before speaking. "Oh...oh, I see, Mr. Reese."

"Funny, that's what she said, too." John replied dryly.

"Well, John, I really wish you would reconsider. We really do keenly feel the loss of your presence. Even The Machine has mourned your departure."

"Right, Finch. I always knew it was a lot of things, but mournful, wow, that's a new one." John referred to The Machine as "it" just then out of a force of habit. He sensed that Joss still knew as little about Finch's creation as always, even though he had her out here, thousands of miles away from her son, essentially to do its bidding instead of him. Something about that ticked him off. Joss shouldn't be used that way anymore; he knew he'd done his share of treating her and Lionel as mere assets-even if he had feelings for her-but the days of that kind of nonsense were over. She could handle it. She didn't need his protection. At this point, Finch either should have told her how he got his information, or left her out of it completely.

If he ever spoke to his old friend again, he'd be sure to tell him that. Right then, with her there, wasn't the time.

"It wasn't something I expected, either, but it had been rather uncooperative until about a week ago. Ever since you left us, neither The Machine nor myself have been ourselves."

"I didn't leave you, Finch. I can still come and go of my own free will, which is what I did. You and I both know that when I left I was no good to you or the numbers. I tried to help people, tried to save them...save Leila...and I couldn't. I failed her. In New York. So you'll forgive me if I still want to keep as much distance between me and that city as I can." He turned slowly towards Joss, who was still standing near, with a look of unmistakable desire in his eyes. "Present company excluded, of course."

She caught his gaze and knew what she saw there. It sent ripples of heat throughout her body, and it was a struggle to keep her mind from venturing to where those eyes wanted to lead her.

Over the phone, Harold let escape a deep sigh. "Of course, Mr. Reese. Well, I must say that I am disappointed in your decision-but after everything that's happened, I understand. Honestly, I do. I am most relieved that you're all right, to know that you're all right, as I had suspected something had terribly befallen you. I do hope...that this is not the last that I hear from you, John. That would be a pity, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, I don't suspect we'll be getting together for weekly bridge games, Finch, but...you know where I am now. It's a start."

"Indeed, Mr. Reese. Might I trouble you to put Detective Carter back on the phone? I have some info for her about Taylor. Nothing serious, just a school matter."

"Sure," John replied. "Oh, and Finch?"

"Yes, Mr. Reese?"

"Thanks for the job."

"You're quite welcome, John. Goodbye."

John handed the phone back to Joss, with a gesture for her to get back on again, and quickly turned his face from her, only to run upstairs just as quickly. If she didn't know better, she'd say his talk with Harold upset him. But of course not. He was where he wanted to be, as he said. Wasn't he?

Joss got back on the phone. "Well, there you have it, Harold. You know, I should've bet you two guys money on this. I told you he wouldn't want to come back with me, that this wouldn't work."

"Oh, quite the contrary, Detective. It's working perfectly. In fact, it's going better than I thought it would."

Joss couldn't believe her ears. Hadn't he been listening to what the man said? "Harold, you heard him! He doesn't want to go back. Frankly, were I him and I had this place to come to, I wouldn't, either. It's over, Harold. I-I'll wait for some of this snow to clear out and then head back on my own first thing..." Joss' heart sank even further at the sound of her own words. The idea of leaving John again made her sadder, in that moment, than she ever thought possible.

"Detective, it would appear that your inability to reach The Golden Arms Hotel, in conjunction with locating Mr. Reese so early on in the game, makes it even more likely that you will be successful in this endeavor. I continue to remain optimistic."

Joss let go of an exasperated sigh. Rubbing her eyelids, she continued to listen to the optimistic computer genius go on about their great chance at luring John back to New York.

"However, I know John well, and that means I'm fully aware of how stubborn he is, Detective. So, I do realize that you will have your work cut out for you. But I implore you, under no circumstances are you to leave John's abode, nor leave Colorado until your two-week vacation is at an end."

"Why, Harold? What's that going to do?"

"It will give you _time, _Detective. Time to get to know each other. Time to spend time. That's what you need. Frankly...it's what _he _needs. Time-and you, Detective."

"Okay," she said, in a voice of surrender. "Okay, if he'll have me for that long, I'll stay. I suppose he would, seeing as it was his idea to bring me here, after the fight we had."

"Oh? A fight, Detective?"

"Yeah, it's a long story, Harold. I'll tell it to you sometime. Look, I'd better get going. Please, please tell my sweet boy I love him for me. I'll try to check in later to catch him."

"Of course, Detective. Remember: stay the course. All will be in hand soon. Take care, Joss."

"You too, Harold. Good-bye."

Not more than five minutes after Joss got off with Harold, John came down the stairs, his arms loaded with winter weather outer gear.

"Here, give these a look. I think they'll fit you."

He handed her a pair of overall snowpants, much like the ones she used to dress Taylor in for winter play when he was a baby.

"John? What-what are these for?"

"You know, Joss. They're snowpants. Put em on. You'll need em."

Joss found herself putting the bulky outerwear on, along with her new boots, coat, knit cap, earmuffs, and gloves, as John donned his own gear, Army certified. When they were both suitably prepared for the elements, John whistled for Bear, who had been dozing in the back room where the tub was, but who wasted no time in running when summoned.

"I feel like a little blimp in this get up, John."

"You look fine, Joss. Better than that, you look protected."

"What exactly are we doing now? I thought we couldn't go anywhere with the road conditions and all."

He smiled and winked as he fixed his hat and hood, and then fastened Bear's outer vest and leash before putting his gloves on. "Who said anything about going anywhere? No need, just to have some fun in the snow."

##

The intrepid three went outside to face the arctic wilderness. Or at least it seemed that way. Even having grown up in New York, Joss didn't think she'd ever seen so much snow. And even though John had indeed been working hard with the plow-and it showed-part of why they were out there was his need to do it again. Luckily, the gale force winds had begun to settle, so the possibility of more drift into the already plowed areas was diminished, but it was a challenge to stay two steps ahead of it all.

John's front path was fairly expansive, stretching along towards the expanse of woodlands visible from the cabin. The plowed spaces only extended to those areas that were necessary for possible emergencies, and for Bear's needs, including the large shed that served as a garage. But that still left a whole lot of deep-footed snow to contend with.

When John was satisfied with his work, he parked the plow near a cleared space near the shed and unhooked Bear's leash from a knob on the wall. Joss enjoyed watching him work, never imagining her _Man in the Suit _as a DIY kind of guy. If he ever did find someone to settle down with, he'd make a great husband, maybe even father, too. Before Elias took Leila, she saw them together. He'd been wonderful with her. So loving and gentle...

"Come on, Joss," he said. "Bear and I will take you on a little walk around the neighborhood."

##

From the cleared paths, Joss got an eyeful of the natural surroundings John was a part of there, and she was amazed. The air was indeed bitingly cold, but in her warm coat and the snowpants, along with the sturdy boots she sported, the cold didn't distract her from appreciating the experience. This late in the year, a snowfall, even there, was a fluke-but not impossible, so a mix of seasons played against each other. Peaking out of the snow, she could see the buds of flowers against tree trunks, stopped in their bloom by the new reality of more winter.

Further along, as John gently nudged Bear to keep up with them, they came to a clearing that revealed streams not frozen over by the frosty air. Their gentle roll was the only sound to be heard, beyond the three of them breathing against the brackish air, and Joss couldn't remember the last time she'd experienced such still, calming silence. She took moments to close her eyes and just listen to that roll of water, to feel the sting on her cheeks, to breathe. John's quiet laughter broke the spell. She opened her eyes to find him watching her from beneath the hood of his jacket.

"It's wonderful, isn't it? When I got back here in December, this is the first place I came to. Even before I unlocked the cabin and got settled, I came here. And when I did get inside, I dug out my tent and camped out here, in the cold, for three days before I had to go inside."

"So quiet and peaceful here. I do see how you love it, John. I really do."

"So why would I want to give this up and go back to New York, Joss? What would be there to rival this? Can you honestly tell me that?"

She didn't answer, merely bent down to rub Bear's ears. She noticed that he seemed fixated on something in the distance, and, at his bark of alarm, she saw what had his attention. Out of the snow leaped a bunny rabbit, white with pink ears, camouflaged against the white wilderness. It scampered off as Bear pulled and strained against his leash, and continued to bark.

"We'll never have rabbit stew for dinner, that's for sure. This fella scares them all off beforehand," he said. "Bear, I suppose you're just not cut out to be a hunting dog, pal."

"Aw, I'm not wild about rabbit food anyway," she chuckled. "Leave them to run away."

They soon turned to head back. Bear pulled happily on John's arm while he held the leash. If the snow hadn't been so intense, he'd have let him off the leash to run as he would. But he wouldn't do that until they got closer to the cabin front yard.

Joss stumbled a little when they approached the final steps back to the cabin. John's quick reflexes kept her from falling down, as he grabbed her arm, and then clutched her hand for the rest of the way. They walked on this way, and Joss felt a small thrill from the pressure of his strong hand in hers. He squeezed to keep her steady, though the uneven path continued to challenge her.

When they got close enough, he released her in order to unhook Bear from his leash. From behind him, however, he felt a thud, heavy and dull land squarely on his back. His mistake was in turning around, though, because as soon as he did, a snowball landed smack square in his face.

"Joss Carter, are you out of your mind, girl?" he asked, now red-faced and dripping, mischief dancing in his own eyes.

"Well, you said we'd have some fun in the snow. This is me, having fun. I figure it's also a good way for me to get my revenge for that nasty thing you called me, too. So, like Taylor says, suck it, John!" She unleashed a barrage of snowballs on him that he had no idea she'd made, or at least not that quickly. One, two, three, four snowballs in rapid fire succession, a blast of firepower he had little time to recover from before the next barrage hit him. She got him again in the face, again in the back, and upside his head, all the while laughing hysterically at his disadvantage.

But if she thought a little snow was going to keep John Reese down, she didn't know her vigilante as much as she thought she did. John's strategy wasn't to return the snowblasts; he didn't have time. His move instead was to run and lunge at her with a bearhug, gently knocking her back into a deep snowpile he'd made next to cabin. She hollered and screamed, blubbering as they twisted and fell atop each other in the snow. Bear leaped and barked in excitement around them, refereeing their epic battle, and soon, he was in the pile on too, having landed on John's back.

"You...you don't play fair, John!" Joss sputtered and laughed. "All I had was snowballs. Leave it...to you...to go all...dramatic!" Her words sailed on a puff of breathless laughter.

"You should know better than to throw snowballs at me, Joss. You're actually lucky I didn't return the favor. Bad cop, Carter, bad cop." He rolled her into another pile of snow, and she howled again. Her protests only inspired laughter in him, which made her howl even more.

"Oh, you suck, John! Get off me...get off...no...no..." Her protests descended into further laughter, and as he rolled and dunked her in yet another pile, Joss got desperate, calling for Bear to assist her.

"Bear's not gonna help you, Joss. He knows who feeds him," John taunted. And sure enough, Bear didn't lift a paw in aid.

"You give up, Joss? Hmm? I think that's your best option. I really do."

"Okay...okay...you win...I give up." She was winded, exhausted, and covered in snow, but she felt exhilarated for the first time in years. A total lightness spread all over her, just from laughing alone. And John had been the cause of it.

He helped her to stand and each dusted the snow off of themselves. But Joss wasn't quite done. When she thought it was safe, she grabbed yet one more handful of snow and chucked it on his face, up close this time, and before he was fully able to retaliate, she took off running for the front door of the cabin, squealing in glee, with John and Bear in hot pursuit, all the way back inside. She'd gotten the last laugh after all. And it had been worth it.

##

After their snow play, John and Joss sat in front of the fire with mugs of cocoa and hot milk. Bear rested his head next to John's thigh, while he stroked him. The sky was turning towards darkness, and the glow of the fire lit up their faces. John's face was fixed deep in contemplation.

"You okay, John? I didn't nail you too hard with those snowballs, did I?" She grinned through a sip of the steaming chocolate.

He turned to her and smirked. "You got off easy this time, Joss. I won't be so lenient next time."

"Next time, we'll build a snowman. No fighting. Working together, just like we used to. Deal?"

"Mmmhmm. Deal." He turned his gaze back to the fire. "We did work well together, didn't we?"

"Mmm, most of the time. Once I figured out you weren't just another jackass of a criminal."

He threw his head back in full laughter this time. "Thanks!"

"Yep, anytime," she said, through a sip of her cocoa, as he continued to laugh.

His laughter stopped and he went quiet again. After a pause, he spoke once more. "I do miss it, you know. Just like you said this morning. Talking to Finch...I don't know. Hearing his voice after so long away...it got to me, I guess."

"But not enough to go back to it."

"It's not-it's not ideal, Joss. Not for me. Not now. Can you understand that?"

"Yeah, I think I can. You were devastated in losing Leila. But John, you didn't do it. You didn't. Elias did. You can't blame yourself. I can guarantee you he isn't taking this on the chin the same way." She was saying this as much for herself as she was for him. He had to know that, even if she had blamed him all those months ago for not trusting her and getting Syzmanski shot, she didn't now. All of it, every single rotten bit of it, began and ended with Moretti and Elias, not John.

"Well, he wouldn't, would he?"

"No, he wouldn't and he doesn't. Still calling the shots around the city, with HR's backing."

"Of course. How's that going, by the way? Making any headway in getting the major players in the department under fed scrutiny?"

"Two steps forward, one step back. Fusco's still playing both sides of the fence, even without you making him do it. That's helpful."

"Ah, I've trained Lionel well. Good. Well, then there's still a piece of me around."

He ran a hand through his longish hair. It was still a bit damp from their earlier exertions. "I'm gonna need to wash my hair tonight."

Joss looked at him, and reached over to finger some of his dark and silver strands. It was so soft and full of body. She had always thought he had beautiful hair.

But it was much more so when he kept it trimmed regularly. She had an idea just then.

"John?"

"Mmhmm? Mmmm..." He was enjoying her stroking his hair. Very much so. His eyes slowly closed, and he dropped his head forward as she got bolder.

"When's the last time you got a haircut?"

Suddenly, his head popped up and his eyes flew open. "A haircut? Uh, it's been a few months. Out here, I'm not _The Man in the Suit, _so there's no need, as far as I'm concerned. Why?"

"Because I could give you one. I'll wash it for you, too, then cut it. You have any clippers in the house?"

"Ummm, yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. They were my dad's but they still work. You really want to give me a haircut?"

"Yes. When I was in the Army, I gave the trims for the guys in my unit between barber visits sometimes. A nice little bit of change on the side. Come on, let me cut your hair."

John studied her face for a few moments, before throwing caution to the wind. "Allright. I am at your mercy, Detective. Make me beautiful."

"You already are, John," she replied quietly yet earnestly. Before either one of them could react to her sentiment, she stood up and began to move in purpose. "Come on, let's go find those clippers."

##

Within a couple hours, from start to finish, Joss had transformed the shaggy haired man in the woods indeed back to his spit-and-polish appearance that she had come to know from New York, complete with part on the side. After the wash and condition in the kitchen sink-where he purred contentedly while she gently scratched and massaged his scalp in the soapy lather-she had him sit in a chair with his shirt off, at which time she took her hair dryer from her suitcase and blew his locks just dry enough to take the clippers and shears to them. She carefully snipped, trimmed and combed his thick hair until he was near regulation in appearance. She even took the liberty of giving him a shave, as he told her where she could find his straight razor and cream in the back room. She finished off her work with his mother's old hand-held mirror, giving him a view of his mountain makeover.

A slow smile crept across his handsome face. "Nice job, Detective. My compliments. I'm still not going to New York with you, though."

"It's a haircut and a shave, John, not a plane ticket," she said, whiping his shoulders clear of strands with a towel.

"True that. All the same, thank you."

He slowly put the mirror down on the floor, near the scattered clumps of his hair. Suddenly, like the clouds in the winter sky, his eyes darkened as he locked them with hers. Joss could feel her pulse quicken, could feel a warm stirring in her core, as he continued to gaze upon her, his eyes making suggestions that her body received loud and clear.

"So, Joss. How do I look? Does this do it for you?"

Her breath caught in her throat as desire hit her from all angles in the presence of this man, this gorgeous, sexy man in front of her. Her control at that moment snapped in half, and she was powerless to stop what happened next.

"I already told you," she answered him breathlessly. "Didn't you hear me?"

John's own voice deepened with desire and she could clearly see the rise and fall of his chest in the soft lighting. "Yes, I did. But, I'd like you to tell me again."

"You're beautiful," she half moaned before climbing into his lap and taking his lips for her own, her impulses now in control of her actions.

John answered her with a groan. Pressing the tip of his tongue at her lips, she breathlessly parted them and allowed him entry; when he felt the tip of her tongue meeting his, the dam of his control broke as well, and he abruptly stood up to kick the chair out from under them, his hands now feverish up and down her body. Joss' feet slid down his thighs to the floor, which allowed her hands to roam from his broad naked back, moist with sweat, to his ass to the backs of his thighs, the muscles there strong and sure. John groaned again at her touch, and in response he allowed his hands to find her ass, his palms pressing and splaying her cheeks, while he pressed her firmly against his arousal.

Joss was losing her mind. She moaned soundly in his mouth while he continued to press her against him; her core molten hot and moist. John bent slightly to remove her hands from his thighs, to place them around his neck. He lifted her up once more, locked her legs around him, and carried her until her back collided with a soft thud against the upper level wall.

They were both completely out of control now. They groped, they caressed, they writhed and gyrated against one another, each moaning into the other's mouth, each panting as if they'd die if they stopped their frantic explorations.

But John did break the kiss. He pulled her head back slightly to gaze in her eyes. He was drunk with desire, and that she had caused it sent even more delicious ripples of heat throughout her body.

"God, you are _so _damn beautiful. What do you want, Joss? Hmm, honey? Tell me. Tell me what you want."

"W-what I want? Mmmm..." she was so aroused she was finding it difficult to speak, her words trailing off into a moan.

"Yes, Joss...tell me how to give you pleasure. That's what I want. To give your body pleasure...to make it good, so good, for you that you crave my touch, my hands on you, wherever you are. I'd do anything for that, baby. Anything. Just tell me how to make that happen."

"Mmmm...I want...oh..." Still finding it difficult to speak as John's lips and teeth found the column of her throat, she still managed to communicate her immediate desires. "I want...ohhhhhhh...ohhhh...yes...mmmm..."

"Mmmmhmm?" John murmured in reply. "What is it, baby?" He pulled her ever closer into him, squeezing her tightly. She could smell him keenly, a mixture of shaving cream, shampoo, and his natural male sweat filling her nostrils.

"I want to touch you, John...look at you...kiss...you..."

At her words, John put her down on her feet, but only broke their embrace to take her hand in his, in order to lead her to his sofa bed. "Come here," he said in a soft, deep rumble. His meaning clear, just enough hesitation showed on her face, which John noticed and quickly put out of her mind.

"You want to touch me, Joss. I desperately want you to touch me," he offered seductively. "so...come here and touch me."

He scooted a few of the throw pillows out of the way with his back and pulled her on top of him before raising his arms and tucking his hands behind his head. He was surrendering his body to her, to do to him what she wanted. Joss accepted the challenge, crawling up to take one of his nipples in her mouth, while he threw his head back slowly in blissful ecstasy, a deep gasp and moan vibrating out of his throat.

"You're killing me, lady," he hissed as she continued to explore his chest and belly. He had scars there, marks of the warrior surviving battle, but they didn't mar his body's beauty. Not in the least.

"Mmm-mmm, nobody's dyin' here tonight, John. This is about being alive. You like it?"

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to see her, the lust of a thousand men shining in his damp eyes. He then thrust his hips against her core a few times, forcefully, for which Joss gasped. "What do you think, Joss? You think I Iike it, baby?"

"Ummmm...yes...ooooooh..."

"Jesus, I want to be inside you so badly. Come here. Come this way..."

He rolled her over on her back. She'd had enough fun. Now it was his turn. His body topped hers as he bent to take her mouth again, their tongues dueling, bodies writhing and twisting against each other, their lustful sounds only getting louder as they moved. Joss ran her hands through John's freshly cut hair, over his back, his ass, anywhere she could continue to touch him, while he found seemingly magic nipples under her top. When the sensation produced by his squeezing, teasing fingers hit her, her thighs spread and she coiled herself around him like a snake. John, in turn, lifted her top and ran his tongue up from her now-exposed belly button to the underwire of her bra.

Just then, like a bucket of water colder than all the snow in Golden, a ringtone sounded from John's pocket. He had to fight with everything inside him to slow down and stop, but the insistence of the ringtone aided in that.

He let his head fall to her chest in exasperation, and caught his breath, saying, "I'm sorry. I need to take this."

For he knew who it was. He had told her to call him that night, right around that time, when he'd last spoken with her the night before. When he moved off Joss to take the call, his suspicions were confirmed.

_Caller: Jennifer, _the phone read. _Damn!_

He took in and let go of a large sigh, running his fingers through his hair before getting up and putting his shirt back on, without a word to Joss. She sat up and watched him, wondering again, as she had the night before if something was wrong. But she didn't ask this time. She just watched him.

As he redialed whatever number it was, he turned away from her, again, this time heading for the den. He soundly shut the door behind him, leaving her on the sofa bed.

Joss wasn't considered one of the best detectives in the 8th Precinct for nothing. When that door shut behind John, and she heard his "hey, what's up" through the door, she hopped off the sofa bed and tiptoed to the door, parking her ear as close as she could while still having a chance to leap out of the way if he happened to open it suddenly.

"...yeah, I know you didn't mean that. It's okay. Yeah...well, the snow should start to melt in another day or two. Maybe we could spend some time then...have dinner here...yeah, yeah, I know. You're concerned, but you don't need to be...Jenni, listen, how many times have we gone over this? I'm not the meet-the-parents type. And your dad is near the same age as me. How would that look...yeah, I uh, miss you, too, sweetie..."

Joss backed away from the door as if she'd been burned. What did she just hear? Dammit, what did she just hear?

Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. _Oh, oh, God! How could he? How? _

Much like the night before, her only recourse was to run when he'd hurt her. But this time, she'd get away. Not another night, not another fucking night would she stay in that cabin with him after this shit! And after what they'd just been doing? What they had been _about_ to do? No way!

While John continued talking, Joss frantically got her winter gear on again from the coat rack, and hastily put her clothes together in her suitcase. Whatever toiletries she had left upstairs, she didn't care; he could have them. When she was suitably packed up, she grabbed her keys and opened the door. The snow could be damned. She had driven an Impala in shit weather before, she could do it again. It just needed a good warm up and her foot on the gas. No, it was time to go.

Turning to open the door, she stopped for a moment, as she heard the click-clack of claws against the exposed wood. Bear had caught her trying to sneak out of the house, a puzzled look on his canine face.

"I'm sorry, Bear, but I can't stay here anymore. Your master is more of a damn dog than you are, and that's not cool. But it was lovely getting to meet you. You be a good boy for John, okay? I'm going to miss you."

She bent down to give him a scratch and pat on his rump before continuing on her way. Bear's response was to whine and whimper, his head dipping low in disappointment. She allowed herself one last look at him and the beautiful little cabin that she now knew for sure John shared with someone else.

Immediately after she shut the door behind her, Bear turned back and began running about the cabin, barking furiously. He contined to bark until John emerged from the den to see what was wrong with his dog. When John came to him, he began to leap up and down, his paws connecting with John's waist.

"Jesus, Bear, what the hell? What's wrong, boy-?"

John noticed that he didn't see Joss anywhere in the vicinity with all the commotion. When he turned towards the door, Bear had run to it, still barking furiously in front of it.

"Where's Joss, Bear?" And then, he got his answer. Seeing that her bags were gone, he looked out the window and saw that the shed light was on, while engine exhaust could be seen billowing out if it.

With no time to think, John pulled out his work boots from the corner and put them on as quickly as possible. He then grabbed his leather bomber jacket off the rack and almost forgot to put it on before he was out the door into the snow.

_No! She couldn't leave, dammit. Not yet. Please, God..._

_"_Joss? Joss? What are you doing? You can't! The roads..."

"The roads won't be a problem, John. But if I stay here, there will be." He found her waiting outside the car as it warmed up. The lusty woman, just in his bed, was gone. In her place stood a woman who rightly felt as if she'd just been made a fool of.

"No, no, come back in the house, Joss. We'll talk about this. Please..."

"Talk? What's there to talk about, John? Except for the fact that we were just that close to having sex in your bed while _Jenni _is waiting for you at home! Yeah, that might have been a good topic of discussion beforehand, you know, the fact that you have godddamn _girlfriend _out here while you're trying to fuck me at the same time!"

John closed his eyes slowly. "I'm sorry. I should've told you about Jenni."

"Why? You're an adult. You have needs, right? And you're out here all on your own, so it's perfectly natural. But you shoulda been trying to keep your hands off _me _in the process! How could you, John? The last thing I would have ever taken you for is a player! Why would you do this to me?"

He opened his eyes, and the desire flared up again. Damn, even now, he couldn't stop doing that shit. "I didn't keep my hands off you because I didn't want to. I still don't. That phone call doesn't change that for me, Joss."

"Well, it ought to. Look, I'm leaving. Now I know the real reason you don't want to come back with me to New York, I'll make Finch understand. It's okay."

Seeing Bear wagging hopefully in the doorway, she said, "give him a hug for me, okay? Bye, John."

John had no intentions of letting Joss go anywhere, though. Going over to the driver side of the car, without a word, he opened the door and got in, driving the vehicle back into the spot it had rested in for two days. He then shut the ignition off and got out, pocketing the keys.

"Goddammit, John Reese, give me my keys! Cut it out!"

"I'm not letting you go, Joss. Not this time. Two weeks, right? Well, you can't leave before then. And I'm gonna make sure you don't."

He stood there, legs akimbo, hands in his pockets, a stern look on his beautiful, rapidly reddening face. Yes, just as Finch said, he was stubborn. And right then, Joss saw her plans for escape go down the drain.

Instead of outright surrender, though, Joss went for reasoned compromise. "We need to talk about Jenni, John. And then, we need to talk about boundaries between you and me if I'm going to stay here."

"You're right. We do. But is it possible we could do that out of the cold and over a warm supper? I'm starving." He attempted levity, with a short chuckle. But his heart wasn't in it.

She swallowed hard; since it was her pride stuck in her throat, that made sense. Not to mention the new reality that told her she couldn't let John touch her as freely as he had anymore, couldn't feel his hands on her body, his mouth on her-

"Well, don't just stand there. Get my bags out of the trunk and bring them back inside, John." She had to kill those hot thoughts cold. It was the only way to survive this.

"Yes, ma'am," he said softly, his gaze only leaving hers to do her bidding. She walked back on without him, and when she reached the door, she encountered Bear, who wagged excitedly to have her back.

"Yeah, you ratted me out, buddy. I know it was you. Heard you barking up a storm in there. Well, at least you and I get to spend some more time together. That's pretty good."

Bear licked his lips and barked once as he followed Joss back inside, his tail still swishing a mile a minute.

**A/N: Wow, lots for our characters to deal with in this one, and all within the span of a day. John's fears about New York and his conscience get a little more airing, he connects with Finch and it affects him more than he thinks it will. He and Joss frolic and play in more ways than one, and then that's dashed when she learns about Jenni. I don't know if I'd have tried to take off like that, but I certainly understand the impulse. Now, he has no choice but to come clean with her-and Jenni. But Bear saves the day!**

**Which gets us to next chap. Jenni and Joss meet after John preps Joss, but not the girlfriend. Eek. They'll be civil, on surface, but some fireworks will definitely go down. And we'll get Jenni's POV on Joss on first encounter-given John's dreams and all. Oh, boy...**

**Well, I hope this entertains you as have the others. Drop lines, y'all and keep the reading light on. Cheers! :-)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hi, guys. Here be Chapter 12. Definitely a pickle in a coffee pot is brewing here. The trouble with Jenni only just begins, even after John and Joss agree to cool it with all the high school hanky-panky they've been doing. Hope you like, and please drop some words along the way. Keep that reading light on!**

Joss offered to make supper this time, once she and John were back in the cabin, warm and settled, her bags now put upstairs in the small spare bedroom where both of them agreed Joss should stay until she departed for New York. The fare for tonight would be simple yet filling. Grilled cheddar cheese and apple sandwiches, mixed green salad, sweet potato fries, and the last of John's soup, with lemon water for refreshment. For dessert, there were all the fixings for s'mores, including the marshmallows, on hand, and they would camp near the fireplace to make them.

That suited Joss fine. She was determined to make the most of this situation now, despite the damper that was her new knowledge of John's girlfriend out here in the woods. _Jennifer. Jenni. With an 'i.' Great. Just great, _she thought.

"Do you need any help, Joss? It's almost unseemly for the guest to prepare the meal for the host."

"No. I'm fine, John. Go on. Go relax a bit with Bear. I'll let you know when everything's ready."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Go. Go hang with Bear," she said quietly, as she began to methodically gather bread, butter, vegetables, and other necessary items for their dinner.

He studied her face, her body language. He sensed that she wanted to get away from him, wanted to put distance between them now, because she could no longer let herself go the way she had before that phone call. This meal prep was one way to do that. It was all about business. The business of getting them fed. It was orderly; steps had to be followed, procedure adhered to. Just like NYPD homicide protocols. It was easier to follow procedure. No loose ends.

_Dammit, John! Dammit! _he swore inwardly. He had no one to blame but himself. Himself, and his near-helpless desire for her, a desire that even now threatened to make him forget everything, to make him throw caution to the wind, and pull her away from the stove to lie her down again and finish what they'd started earlier. He should have kept his hands to himself, should have never touched her, never took her lips in passion the way he had.

But Jesus, but she'd tasted _so damn good, _like the sweet of the warm milk they'd just had. Their kissing was of the kind he'd dreamt about while sleeping and fantasized about while awake, hot kissing that led to love, that led to complete and total possession. She would have been his. He would have been hers. Hell, he already _was _hers. All she had to do, the only thing she'd have to do was give him a sign. A look, a smile, anything that would let him know for certain that he could have her, that he could indeed pull her down on his bed, on his carpet, wrap those womanly thighs around his body, and unleash the pent up lust he'd nursed like a baby for months.

But that wouldn't happen. He knew Joss. It was part of the reason he'd kept his distance, had kept on a lid on his feelings back in New York. She wouldn't play that with him. Not if he had Jenni. And Jenni didn't deserve that either.

He'd have to make sure he got that drafty window sealed up in the morning.

In a little while, supper was indeed ready, and when Joss quietly alerted him thus, John slowly walked over to his place setting and sat down. His napkin was placed in his lap before his elbows rested on the table and his folded hands hid the sad grimmace on his face. Now, it was his turn to feel like not eating much. Joss still wasn't talking as she forked over his split sandwiches, then fries, on his plate. The soup and salad he was served seperately, in bowls.

"There you go," she said, fussing needlessly over the preparation, over him. "Do you want dressing? Here, let me put some dressing on that-"

"Joss, dammit, stop it. I mean it, stop doing this." He had grabbed her arm forcefully in the midst of his outburst, but didn't hurt her.

Joss stared at him, then stared past him, her big brown eyes were wet, but no tears came. "What? What am I doing, except serving you supper?"

"You're trying to shut me out as a means of protecting yourself, protecting...your heart. But you don't have to do that. Believe me, you don't."

"I don't know what you're talking about, John. Now, eat your dinner before it gets cold," she said, her tone shaky, fragile. She gently pulled her arm away and sat herself down across from him. She was glad for the firelight. It allowed her face a bit of safety from his probing stare. She lowered her head toward her meal.

"Joss..."

"Eat, John!" She forcefully slammed her palm against the table. "Please...just...just eat."

He let go of a heavy sigh. "Okay. We'll eat. But then, we talk. You hear me?"

"Yeah. Okay. I hope you like it."

Pretty soon, the only sounds to be heard in the cabin, where not but a few hours before, John and Joss shared laughter and passion, were the slow clink of spoons against bowls, Bear's occasional canine grunts, and the pop and crack of firewood glowing in the night.

##

"I'm sorry, Joss."

"You've been saying that a lot lately, you know that?"

"Well, maybe I have because it's true. I never meant to hurt you."

As they sat once again in front of the fireplace, with their s'mores, Joss quietly watched as the shadows of the flames flickered and danced around the room. After a moment, she put her dessert back on the small saucer she had and brushed her hands clear of crumbs.

"You gonna eat that?" John asked, watching her every move.

"No, you can have it, if you want it." After a pause, she added, "but you can't have me, John. Not like this. Not when you already have a woman in your bed. I don't-I'm not made that way, John. I didn't come here for 'forget-me' sex. I'm sorry."

"Okay," he said softly, with a smirk. "Interesting way of putting it. But I have a feeling that, if we did have sex, it wouldn't be something either one of us would ever forget. So, what are the parameters now?"

"The parameters now are that you can't kiss me, can't hold me or rub my body, you can't push up against me on that wall back there..." her voice trailed off, a lilt of sadness he heard in its tender pronouncements.

John closed his eyes slowly and worked his tongue back and forth across his bottom lip. The memory of him doing just that flooded his consciousness like a soft tidal wave, and he was overcome with the longing to do it again, and more. Much, much more.

But, instead, he nodded, his eyes downcast on her plate, and pulled the sticky dessert to his own.

"Right, Joss. The only free goodies of yours I can have now contain chocolate and marshmallows." He held up the s'more he'd taken from her, and gave it a brief glance. "Not sure that this is a better deal...but, agreed. I will, from now on, keep my hands to myself."

"Okay," she replied, with a slight tremble. "Sounds good. So...so, how long have you been with Jennifer?"

"About four months or so. I met her at a diner the next town over, when I was on my way back here. She works there."

"Oh. A waitress, then?"

"Yeah, for the most part. Also, a student. Much younger than me."

For the first time since they came back in the house, Joss grinned a little, and it was the most magical sound he could hear. "Don't tell me she's in high school, John, Jesus."

He smiled in return, staring ahead at the firelight as it transformed his eyes into a silvery-green color. "No, nothing like that. Christ, what do you take me for, Joss?," he asked in a minty whisper.

"Just kidding, just kidding. So, what's she like?"

John nodded his his head to and fro. "She's a nice girl. Likes to try and mother me, but I won't let her. She's not too happy about that, but she keeps coming back, so I guess it's not so bad."

They were both silent for a moment before John said, "it's not...serious, Joss. At least, not for me, it isn't. Not in that way. What I mean is, I don't see her every day, not even every week, and that's how I want it. She...seems to want more, but I do a good job at keeping her at arm's length. That's where we are now. Where we'll always be."

Joss let that bit of information sink in. She gave him a long glance. Then, "that's how it is, is it?"

"Yep, that's how it is."

"Sooooo...you essentially have a rustic fuck buddy out here, huh, John? Hmm, I wonder if she knows that's how you see her."

John grew slightly irritated at her appraisal of the situation, simply because, as usual, she was on the money. Were Joss any other woman, or if Jenni indeed was as potent in this area as Joss was, he wouldn't deal with her at all, wouldn't stand a woman who could read him so well. So why did he do it with Joss? Why could he not bear for a second the thought of her jumping in her car and trying to run away from him earlier, even with Jenni as a factor?

Why did he love her so?

"You make me out to be some kind of ogre. That's not fair, Joss," he said, in a low, gruff tone.

"Oh, no? Well, it looks to me that what's not fair is you stringing this poor girl along when you know she's got her sights set on more than just spreading her legs for you, John. I mean, really, holding her at arm's length? How would you feel if someone you wanted did that to you? I mean, do you even know what that feels like?"

He turned to her then, abruptly, with an expression that almost frightened her. "I do, indeed, know what that feels like, and it's one of the worst feelings there is. Like you're going to explode if you don't get the chance to see those feelings reciprocated, but then not daring to push your luck because she's so consumed with her job, with her mission to do the right thing, to be on the right side of the law, that she'd never even allow herself a second to look at you in that way, because, despite all that you've done to try to redeem yourself, to make up for all the wrong you've done in the world, in her eyes, deep down, you're still a goddamn criminal! Oh, yes, Joss. I know _exactly _how that feels." By the time he was done, he had gritted his teeth and raised his voice loud enough for Bear, who had been dozing in his usual place, to wake up yawning.

"John..." she began timidly after his unexpected outburst. "You know that's not true. I don't see you as a criminal. You're a good man, just like I told you that day in the park."

"Oh yeah, Joss?" he asked, now with an air of quiet helplessness in his voice, "then why did it take Lionel Fusco to speak on my behalf, to get your attention? Hmm? How is it that he could see, and you couldn't, how much I wanted you? Did you see me, Joss? Did you? Did you happen to notice me watching you, watching _over_ you when HR and Elias came after you, when anybody tried to come after you? God help me, I would've done absolutely anything for you, woman. Anything, whether you wanted me in return or not. I still would..."

At his earnest words, she turned to him, the small, furrowed crease in her brow making itself visible. Soon, that crease tightened further as the tears she'd held in check began to spill.

"We're not talking about me, John, though, are we? This is about you and how you live your life _now, _the choices made here, in Golden, and how you have to abide by them. Damn you, you can't do this to me, you know..." Her silent tears continued to fall, and as she wiped them with the ends of her palms, John grabbed her wrists and pulled her into his arms. She softly protested, but he stopped her.

"John, no...we agreed, no more hugging and kissing...no..."

"One last time, Joss...one last time...I know what we said...I know...but please, just once more..." He murmured his pitch to her against her cheek, then against her tiny forehead, then, finally, her lips, twice, before pulling her fully into his embrace. She soon accepted, wrapping her own arms around his back, and lying prone in his lap for a fuller hold. Joss sniffed in the crook of his neck, while he rocked her slowly and rubbed soft circles on her back and her thighs. She found her fingers tangled in his clean, freshly cut hair again, and he lightly whimpered at her touch, her polished nails lightly grazing his scalp.

For several minutes, they just held each other, the warmth and strong feelings ebbing and flowing between them. Messages of need, desire, regret- all were sent and recieved even though neither one of them said a word. It was John, though, who broke the physical bond, raising his head up and lifting a hand to stroke her still slightly curly hair.

"Look, I'll, uh, clean up in the kitchen, okay? It's late, and I'm sure you're tired after everything, so, I'll take care of it."

"John, I can do it. You don't have to..."

"Shh, no, no. You cooked, I'll clean up. Besides, need to take Bear out soon. But hey, the weather is supposed to do a nice turn tomorrow, start melting some the snow. Why don't we take my truck, drop Bear off at Sam's and then we'll get outta here? Take a trip into Denver, do a little sightseeing, a little shopping. Would you like that?"

It would be nice to see more of this state than just a cute cabin in the woods. And that would give her a chance to pick up Finch and Taylor's souvenirs. And she would love to chat with Sam again, the old coot. It sounded like a plan.

She nodded her head and smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that, John."

"Okay," he said, softly, running his forefinger across the bridge of her nose. "We'll get up, get the dog settled, have a quick breakfast and showers and then be off by, say, 10?"

"Great. Well, I better get up and get ready for bed for sure then. Thanks for the cleanup, John."

"You're welcome. Thanks for supper-and the extra s'mores. Good night, Joss."

He took one more last liberty, her sweet lips parted in a dare to him to taste them again. So he did. He lingered, as if he wanted to burn their taste, their feel to his memory forever. Joss had to pull away, though, had to end it, or else she'd forget about Jenni. She'd absolutely forget about her, would only know about the throbbing this man inspired between her thighs, and how she wanted him to be wild with her in quenching that fine heat.

Pulling out of his arms and standing up, she walked over to the recliner where the blankets and pillow were and scooped them up. She'd deal with the cold tonight. She was a cop, a soldier. It'd be fine.

Upon reaching the walled stairwell, Joss stopped for a moment. Turning back toward him, she stared, wide-eyed, and waited until he was in perfect earshot of her.

"John?"

"Yes, Joss?"

"I used to wonder the same thing, you know."

"What's that, Joss?"

"If you saw me or not."

"Well, now you know, sweetheart."

"Yeah. And I suppose, now you do, too."

She didn't wait for his answer, instead swiftly opening the door to the upstairs level and running up the stairs. John stood stock still, a red ceramic dinnerplate in his hand, watching as she disappeared behind the door.

Once John had Bear back inside from his walk and everything was settled in the cabin, he took a quick shower before bed. The soapy hot water was a welcome tonic for the day's drama, and when he was done, he felt better. Until he came out of the bathroom. From his end of the hall, he heard her. Joss was in the little bedroom, her weeping voice unmistakable behind the door.

As he listened, her soft cries slammed into his heart, and threatened to break it into a million pieces. His first instinct, so close to his skin, was to go to her, to sit up with her and rock those tears away, just as he had earlier. After their conversation that night, feelings were on the sleeve, truths had been revealed, and he knew why she wept. His dumbfoundedness at her revelation of honest attraction to him was replaced with regret. They had wasted precious time dancing around each other back in New York, neither one of them brave enough to make the move to see where the other one was. And now, _now_, it was too damn late.

The thrill he felt with the knowledge that she _had _seen him in 'that way' was also now sobered by the fact that he couldn't take advantage of it. And he'd accused her of being blind to him, when he had been the blind one. Or maybe he had seen it in her. He was just too damn scared that, in spite of her desire, she'd still reject him because of his past. He wouldn't have been able to handle that. Indeed, it's why they were in this setting in the first place-and they had never even passed the close friend stage.

He started down the hall, but then thought better of it. They had agreed to keep hands off. And he had to start sometime, or he never would. Instead, he slowly and quietly made his way back downstairs to his bed, the bath towel flicked off and left at the edge.

Bear, sensing something amiss, perhaps, instead of finding his usual spot on the carpet, hopped the bed to settle himself down next to John. He reached out to pet his friend before pulling back the quilts and blankets to settle down. Lying back in the dimness, he turned his head towards the upstairs doorway and kept it there, before finally drifting off to sleep, the two fat tears in his own eyes spilling as he closed them.

##

The next morning, an absolutely fantastic sun beamed strong and hot into the cabin windows, and surprisingly, Joss felt the overwhelming need to rid herself of the covering she'd wrapped herself in to sleep in the normally drafty room. Divesting herself of the blankets, and sitting up, she was confronted by the sounds of birds getting on their business for the day, and the unmistakable drip-drip of melting snow and ice from the rooftoop. She smiled, the hot sun immediately giving her a mood boost, and coupled with the knowledge that she'd be spending the day with John out and about shopping and such, Joss simply couldn't tamp down her excitement. It was time to get up.

She made her stop in the bathroom before heading downstairs. When she did go down, she found John, surprisingly, still in bed, sleeping, his bare chest uncovered, his soft snores unmistakable. He had always been up before her since she'd been there, or at least moving around while she was still sleeping, so this was definitely unexpected. Maybe they weren't going to have a day out after all? He had done a lot of physical work with the plowing over the past couple days. She guessed if he needed to rest up a bit, he was certainly entitled-but she couldn't help being a little disappointed all the same.

He was beautiful in his sleep, though. His thick long lashes brushed his cheeks, and he breathed through his mouth steadily, the snores audible, of course, but not obnoxiously so. She was suddenly taken by an urge to break her own stipulation: no touching, no caressing. A lock of his newly cut hair fell over his forehead. It would be nothing to lightly reach out and scoop it over; he wouldn't even feel it. But she would. Down to her very soul, she would.

Bear came in then, saving Joss from herself, from his other space in the back room, holding a leash in his mouth, and looking expectantly at Joss. He needed to go out, and the one who usually took him was indisposed at the moment.

"What's wrong, Bear honey? Your morning routine out of joint today?"

He twitched his head as if answering her, and Joss quietly grinned. "Well, I suppose I could take you out, boy. Would you like that? You and me could spend a little alone time without John. Yeah, we could!"

Bear's tail wagged just a little faster at her suggestion. Joss took that as a good sign, and decided to go back upstairs to quickly throw on some clothes for taking a walk with her new buddy.

When she got back, however, John was arching his back, the satin peacock pillow falling to the floor. He opened his eyes, yawned, and with a deep groan, slowly rubbed his bare belly, a move and a sound Joss tried desperately not to process in her mind even as she saw and heard them. His sleepy red eyes captured her vision, holding steady on-and God, a sexier man Joss had never experienced before. Not even her ex-husband had been this naturally erotic, this alluring without even trying. And she didn't even want to consider the fact that he was completely naked under those quilts. The towel at the end of the bed was one clue, the bare belly was a better one.

"Oh..." she began at seeing him conscious.

"Hi," he said, sleepily, with a smile. "Sneaking out of the house again, are we?"

"No, actually. It would appear that I've been pressed into service. Big Bear here needs to heed nature's call. And since you were still sleeping..."

John sat upon his elbow with a groan now, a hand run through his hair, a deep, sleepy sigh expelled from his broad chest. "Aww, shit. Yeah, he's gotta do his thing. You know, I love Bear, but sometimes I wonder what I was thinking in gettin' a dog again, after so many years. That's okay, Joss. I got it. I'll take him."

"Well, it's no problem, John. I can, you know. And I think he wants me to do it anyway, now that he's gotten used to the idea. Don't you, boy?"

Bear barked and wagged his approval. John just smirked and waved him off. "Don't be fooled, Joss. He's just trying to claim you, and make me jealous. You're the one he's been waiting for. No, I'll do it. Besides, I could do with a deep snow run myself. Keep the muscles going, you know. I usually jog out with Bear, so, it's okay."

_How? How in the world did he do that? Say something so suggesstive as that his dog was trying to make him jealous over her, and then keep talking as if it were nothing, nothing at all? It wasn't nothing. Not by a long shot!_

"Umm, okay, John, if you say so. It's just as well, since I haven't showered or anything yet. I can get spruced up instead."

"See, there you go, problem solved. But hey, Joss, before you go, could you do me a favor and grab a pair of my sweats from the back room line? I'm a little...indecent, and I wouldn't want to startle you. Please?"

He gave her that goofy-eyed stare that he used to back when they were working together, when he would tease her or ignore her admonishments about his methods. He wanted to confirm for her what he already knew _she _knew about his state of undress-and arousal-under those covers. She decided she wouldn't let him see her sweat-even if a there was a secret place of her body that was dripping wet with another kind of fluid all together.

"John," she scoffed, "you ain't got nothin on you I ain't seen before." Before he had time to retort, she'd dashed out of the living room for the clothes line. When she came back, she playfully threw them in his face and ran upstairs to shower before he could catch her.

"Just for that, Joss Carter, when we go off for the day, no ice cream for you," he called up the stairs to her.

"I can get my own damn ice cream, John Reese," she called back in kind, "so boo-hoo, boo-boo."

John got some other clothing items together for his jog with Bear, giggling and smiling at the beautiful lady upstairs until his preparations were completed. Despite the new-old boundaries in their relationship, fundamentally, they were still in a lovely place together, as friends. It was going to be a wonderful day. He could just feel it.

##

The sun's arrival after yet one more hellish storm was like the sap run in Jenni's body. She was energized, eager, and most importantly, excited to be able to see John and Bear once again, after the past few days of no physical contact. No physical contact with John, as in no sex. Too long for her after being stuck in the house with nothing to do. Movies got stale after the fifth watch; games with her younger brother got boring, and he was a sore loser even at his advanced age. Cabin fever had taken hold of her, badly, and today was the first day she could break off its annoying grip. There could be nothing better than that.

Well, what _was _better was John's loving. She'd never been with a man in her age group who could do to her body what he could. John was a consummate lover, using his eyes, his mouth, his hands, his voice, and his dick to deliver erotic pleasure she had only ever heard about on TV talk shows before him. Most men in their 20s that she knew were still clumsy, or better still, inconsiderate, when it came to a woman's needs. But not John. Oh, God, not John. But still, there was more to it than just mind-blowing sex.

The way they had left things before the storm hadn't been so nice. He was still so distant at times, and she knew that his past made him like that. Part of why she wanted him to get therapy was so that some of the distance would dissipate and they could grow closer, maybe even have something down the line. She knew that deep down he was a wonderful man, someone who'd seen the world and gave a damn about it. She wanted that example for her children some day.

Plus, she liked having the satisfaction of knowing that, even if he was twice her age, she had the best looking man in Golden to be with. The one time he'd met Erin and some of her other friends at the diner, they were impressed-if a bit shocked that she was dating a man twenty years her senior. She knew the other girls gossipped. She didn't let it bother her because she knew what they had to look forward to instead.

After her shower, she would call him to see about coming over for the night. Knowing him, he'd be just as needy as she was, wild even. Probably be a good idea to pack extra panties, just in case.

##

Joss took advantage of her space in the little bedroom by fixing her hair and light makeup in at the old dresser and mirror in front of the bed. Since they were going to probably be doing a bit of walking around, she figured nothing fancy needed to happen to her hair, and so a part and some plaits, after a flip of the brush, was decided upon. She topped those with a blue kerchief, making sure that the silver hooped earrings she donned would snag it. The only makeup was moisturizer, a little concealer, a touch of mascara, and her juicy wine lip gloss, which she dabbed on with just a light touch. With cosmetics, sometimes less was definitely more.

Dressed in snug-fitting, butter-soft jeans that hid nothing of her fulsome curves, and an equally snug-fitting sleeveless black tank with plunging neckline, Joss admired herself in the mirror. Who was she dressed for like this? John? That wasn't supposed to be on the table anymore, after their conversation the night before. But she knew he would notice her, and, deep down, she liked the idea of him noticing her, even now.

Hell, she looked damn good for having been a soldier, a homicide cop, and a mom to a teenaged son. Why the hell shouldn't he or any other hot guy in this neck of the woods not notice? And she was on vacation. If not there, then where?

With a shake of her booty, and a swish of her breasts in the mirror, Joss giggled at herself and left the room for downstairs.

When she got there, the cabin was quiet. John and Bear were still on their run through the snow. That was good, in that it would give her an opportunity to get breakfast started for them. Omelettes, toast, and sausage was what she was in the mood for; hopefully, they'd be back in time for that to be a viable option.

Heading towards the kitchen area, however, she was seized by a ringtone. John's ringtone. He must have forgotten to bring his phone with him. Great. If he'd managed to trip and sprain his ankle out there, she'd have been none the wiser. She thought about letting it go to voicemail, but it could have been Sam trying to catch up with them both. She didn't know how much John had included Sam in on their plans to drop by for a visit, but he'd mentioned it, so it was possible he could have wanted to know when to expect them.

She found the phone on the nightstand next to the sofabed. When she picked it up, however, the caller ID stopped her blood in her veins ice cold.

_Jennifer. _That was name she saw. It bounced out at her, flashing across the screen twice. It was impatient, insistent, demanding satisfaction. Demanding an answer. Demanding John. It was her right, her expectation as the woman in his life, however fleetingly from his perspective. She got that, loud and clear.

She really should have let it go to voice mail. But something about needing to hear this woman's voice, needing confirmation that she was real, threw that thought right out the window. She pressed the button and spoke into the receiver, cutting through the last ring before it indeed went to voice mail, and the chance was lost.

Clearing her throat, she spoke as calmly and as airily as she could. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end paused for a second before replying. "Oh, I'm sorry, I must have the wrong number..."

"No...no, you don't," Joss replied quickly, before she hung up. "Are you looking for John? He's not here at the moment."

"Uhhh...yes...I am. I am looking for John. Do you know where he is?"

"Yes, he took Bear out for his walk and jog. They should be back shortly. Should I take a message for you?"

The voice paused again, this time long enough to make Joss wonder if she were still there. "Hello?"

The voice answered. "Wait a minute...who...who are you?" Joss detected an air of suspicion and irritation in her voice.

"I'm...I'm a friend...of John's. From back east, New York City."

"Oh, really? A friend from New York? That's funny. He never mentioned friends from New York. How long have you known him?"

"A while now. We used to work together on different cases. I'm a police officer and he sometimes assisted on investigations for the department. He's a...good guy for that."

"Oh. So, are you...catching up with him while you're here working on a case?"

Joss could feel herself slipping further into the quicksand. She wasn't sorry she answered the phone, but now she knew what her suspects felt like when she interrogated them at the precinct, intent on getting to the bottom of whatever murder had been committed. She just wanted to tell this one that John would be back and that he'd call later, get it over with. But Joss knew better, knew what was going through Jenni's mind. Another woman just answered her man's phone, at his cabin, a cabin that she had been the only other to grace with her presence. She couldn't blame her for wanting answers.

"No, hon, I'm not working on a case. I'm staying here...on my vacation. I had a hotel, but...John insisted. What with the weather and all."

"Right..." Jenni said, her mind calculating and computating what she was learning. "Right, so you're staying with John...and I was just there a couple days ago, no mention of anything like this...this is fucking unbelievable..."

"Hey, wait, wait, hold on...it's not what you think..."

"Oh, well, what do you think I think, whatever-your-name-is? I don't even know your name..."

"It's Joceyln. Joss, for short."

At that moment, Joss heard a sob on the other end of the line, punctuated with a string of oh-my-Gods thrown in.

"Jennifer? Are you okay?"

"She asks me if I'm okay," Jennifer laughed bitterly through her sobs. "Isn't that the funniest thing? It makes sense that you're there! Of course, he insisted you stay! He would insist that _you _stay! It's his dream come true, after all! Oh, my God, John, how could you do this?" Her voice trailed off in more sobs.

"What are you talking about, Jennifer? I don't understand..."

"Oh, I bet you don't! So, what have you two been up to since the storm started, huh? Was this planned all along? No wonder..."

"No wonder what? And no, it wasn't planned, I told you. I had a hotel, but with the bad weather coming, I wasn't in a place to get to it. John offered here. I'm sorry if you feel hurt now, but it's not what you think, honest!"

"Save it! Just save it, okay? After everything, after the dreams, the drunken binges, and...you...I don't believe this wasn't planned. No accident, _Joss. _Maybe you weren't planning on ending up there, staying there, but he was always going to make damn sure it happened! And now, it has. He has what he wants!"

"Jennifer, no, that's not how it is-"

Jenni cut her off. "Do me a favor and tell him I called, please. We need to talk. I hope...you enjoy your stay here in Colorado. I'm sure you have quite a bit already."

The phone line went dead. For a few seconds, Joss just held it there, against her ear, staring blankly at the wall, until the hum of the dial tone brought her to her senses again and she disconnected from the phone. She slowly sat down on the sofa bed and palmed her face as she tried to process what the hell had just happened. Clearly, this woman was hurt by her interference, by her doing Finch's bidding, him believing that he could just snatch John back into a life he'd put as many miles in front of as he could. What had she been thinking in agreeing to do this? And he wasn't coming back anyway! Whatever "feelings" he might have for her, he still wasn't leaving. Jenni gets him, if only by default. And that made all the difference, didn't it?

She continued to sit there and think for several minutes more until she heard a male voice and a dog's bark approaching the front door. With a turn of a key, John and Bear bounded inside, their mutual exuberance bringing massive amounts of energy into the cabin-energy Joss couldn't absorb at the moment.

"Ah, Joss, it's beautiful out there, just beautiful! You'll love it, a genuine Colorado sunshine. Ice and snow are starting to melt, the main roads have been mostly cleared, it's great. Back to summer in no time. I think a good breakfast is certainly on the menu after-"

He stopped when he saw her face. "Joss, what's wrong, honey?"

She looked up at him, none of his excitement for the day showing on her face. He asked again. "Joss, what's going on?"

"You left your phone here, John. It rang. I answered it, thinking maybe it was Sam. It wasn't Sam. It was Jenni."

John's face went through a transformation. Now gone was the happy, sun-kissed guy who had burst through the door with Bear; now, he wore a darkened mask-the mask she saw him put on that day in the park when their partnership ended.

"I have Caller ID, Joss. You knew before you answered it wasn't Sam."

" Yeah, okay, I saw that it was Jenni on the phone. So? So what?"

"So you should have let it ring, or let the goddamn voice mail pick it up." His voice deepened, was almost menacing.

"You should have brought it with you, and I couldn't have answered it. And all the times you and Harold have listened in on my phone conversations with people, and you want to play that? I don't think so."

"I don't want to get into this with you now, Joss. I need to shower, get breakfast and coffee so we can be on our way. We had plans, remember?"

"I don't believe you, John! Your girlfriend finds out that you have a woman friend staying in your house with you, and you still want to just keep on like it's nothing? Really?"

"Yeah, really," he replied quickly. "Because it _is _nothing, isn't it? No touching, no hugging, no kissing, _no _sex. Right, Joss? Isn't that what we agreed on? Problem solved." He moved to take off his outer gear and divest Bear of his as well.

"Not for her, it isn't! And I guess I wasn't as big a secret to her as I thought. She heard my name, and all hell broke loose. What's this have to do with me, John? What have you told her about me?"

John waved off the suggestion. "Nothing. I talk in my sleep sometimes. She heard me call out your name once. I told you her you were in my past. That's it."

"Well, again, not for her. She thinks...she thinks...we're sleeping together, John."

He turned his head from his task slowly, to look at her square in the face. "Well, she'd be right about that if you stopped giving so much of a damn about what everybody else wants, instead of what _your_ body wants, Joss. Don't you think?"

The other night's anger flickered across her face, but she didn't move to strike this time. She didn't say anything either. Instead, she backed away from him, turned toward the coat rack, and in a repeat of the day before, grabbed her coat and purse and ran out the door by herself.

"Joss? Wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Joss!"

She didn't stop moving. Making her way to the shed, and unlocking the Impala doors, she got in, started the ignition for a warm up, and rolled the window down, slightly. When the car was ready, she backed out of the plowed and thawing yard, and drove forward towards the backyard driveway leading to the main road.

Bear, as he had before, frantically barked as the car departed the yard. But this time, with his head hung low, John knew he had no right to make any effort to stop her.

**A/N: My initial plan for Joss and Jenni was to have blondie drop by unannounced when John wasn't home, and then meet our favorite detective face-to-face. But the phone call seemed more immediate as I thought about it. Plus, a live meeting will happen at some point, which gives us potential for more drama. Oh, boy..**

**Well, our John ain't perfect; he's not quite got this women thing worked out, but he's a good man just trying his best. He's gotta fix this, though, cuz he got two ladies mad at him now! The question is, will he or won't he? And what will he need to do in order to fix it?**

**Next up, Joss calls home and talks to Lionel and Taylor, and attempts to have a little fun on her own. Thanks for reading, all, and be well! **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Joss has some time out on her own and meets up with Sam in the process, but things take a decided turn once she returns to John's cabin. Enjoy, all. :-)**

"I'll take this one, in a large, please. And these two in medium. Thank you." After the clerk in the souvenir shop filled her order for t shirts, Joss paid for her purchases in cash and left the store for a bit of lunch. She was not surprised to find that her stomach was waging a holy war against her, for the breakfast she planned on fixing at the cabin, of course, never happened. She had to get some space from John and the tumult in his head, lest it threaten to consume her. And she couldn't be consumed. She had a son and a job and a city to get back to very soon. With or without John, that had to happen.

So she decided to get in her rental car and do what little shopping she could in Golden. It was actually good to be on her own in the town for a little bit. With the storm, she'd been shut in for two days; now that the sun was beaming hotly, the snow melted rapidly, though there was still quite a bit to contend with, and what had melted would turn into an ice slick as soon as the sun took its leave. Joss had experienced enough New York winter to dread that.

She decided to pay Sam a visit, as they'd planned, for her lunch. Joss hadn't been able to eat the food the bartender had had prepared for her the other night, and she was still eager to try her very first buffalo burger. And if she was honest, she wanted a chance to talk about John, to get another perspective on his ways, his demons. She could chew and listen at the same time.

The Squarehouse wasn't far from the souvenir shop she'd just left, so she was able to get to it within a matter of minutes. Pulling into the snowy lot, she parked and exited the Impala, taking a second to inhale the chilly air. Yes, it was good to get out of the cabin and see the outside again. As much as she had come to love John's abode-and as much as she was concerned about him now that they were apart-a little breathing room was needed. Especially now that Jenni indeed was a real voice, a real person, a real set of feelings that was connected to John, and which could not be denied. And what would she do that for, anyway? It made perfect sense that John would have someone to share his bed with, at least, and since he had had no idea he'd ever see her again, Joss reasoned she had no right to be angry, just as she'd told him the day before.

But he'd touched her. Kissed her so hotly. Had her in a state of arousal that was so intense that they'd nearly made love on his sofa bed-until Jenni stopped them. The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

She should have been angry at him about that, his seemingly two-timing ways, and at first, she was. But as she thought of what had gone down between then and now, what she was more concerned about, surprisingly, was Jenni's feelings. Now, she only knew about their relationship what John had told her concretely; but from having talked to the woman, clearly John was important to her. And despite his professed indifference, she knew better than to think that John cared not a whit for her. He wasn't the kind of man not to give a damn at all about people, especially someone he knew gave one about him. She knew better than that.

She walked the short distance to the bar. It looked fairly busy, from the number of vehicles parked, for a mid afternoon, but perhaps Sam offered a good lunch special and the locals and tourists took advantage. Right now, so would she, if there was one. She was so hungry, she could eat the whole buffalo.

Since there was no seater, Joss found a booth just as she had the other night, and parked herself in it. Sam seemed to have radar, because before she was fully settled, he ambled up to her to her, a big, grizzly grin gracing his face. She smiled broadly in turn.

"Well, now, I knew it was a good thing for me to say my prayers this morning. Howdy, Miss Joss, fancy seein' you here. But...er...where's that fool boy you been shackin' up from the snow with?"

Joss sighed. "As far as I know, Sam, still shacked up."

"I'm not followin', Joss. Did him and that mutt do somethin' stupid?"

"It's a long story, Sam."

"I got time, darlin'," he said, sitting down opposite her. "What's been goin' over there since I dropped you off?"

"Hmm, let's see: uh, we had dinner the other night, we walked Bear in the afternoon, we had a snowball fight, I gave John a haircut, we kissed, a few times, his girlfriend called and I spoke to her and she wasn't happy-"

"Whoa, whoa, girl, hang on, stop the wagon," Sam said gruffly, holding his hands up. "Go back a little bit now..."

"...I gave him a haircut?"

"I got that part. What's this about kissin' and girlfriends?"

"John and I kissed...a few times. Nearly got completely carried away after I cut his hair. But then his girlfriend called. I played snoop and figured out that was what the situation was. I was going to leave, but he stopped me. We talked about things, promised to respect boundaries, but then, this morning, she called and I...answered John's phone. She and I spoke. It wasn't pretty..."

"Oh, Johnny, you sly fox, you, heheh! I just knew he wouldn't be able to keep his mitts off you!" But returning to a more serious tone, "hmmph, so much for respectin' boundaries, gal. You should know better than to answer a man's phone, sweetie. I'm an oldtimer, true, but that was the way in my day, too. If he let you have it, in this case, I can't much says I blame him."

Joss smiled sheepishly. "I'm a cop, Sam. Better still, a detective. Got the snooper instinct. Can't help it."

"Well, in _your _defense, John is a damn fool. Yeah, I know all about that dumb little piece of ass he's had suckin' his dick for him these past few months. She's been in here with him a few times. Young enough to be his daughter, almost. Doesn't give a damn about her the way he should, so he feels guilty about that and keeps screwin' her because of it. And frankly, from where I sit, that girl's got problems John can't really afford to get mixed up in anyway. But it was clear to me from the moment he knew you were here that he gives more of a damn than he probably should about you, gal. He wants you real bad, Joss. Can't much fault him for that, either. Problem is, he spends all his time tryna be a goddamned boy scout that he invariably pisses off somebody and then screws the whole thing up so no one's happy, most of all him. He's been this way his whole life."

Joss cupped her chin in attention. "Hmm, you know, that's funny."

"Oh? Why is that, Joss?"

"Because he'd say the exact thing about me. Only thing is, I'm the girl scout."

Sam chuckled, the twinkle in his eye and the rosiness in his cheeks reminding her of Santa Claus. "Ha, a match made in hell, then. See, you two deserve each other." He leaned in a little bit closer to her, in order to approach her with questions burning in his mind since he met her. "But tell me somethin', Joss. How did you two meet up, and what happened-or didn't-to make that boy fall in love with you?"

"He's not in love with me, Sam."

"Like hell he ain't, Joss! Shit, I've only known ya for a few days, and I'd love to have you scratch my itch like you done him. A haircut you gave him, and then the bed? Damn, he's a lucky sumbitch! Shame that little witch interrupted ya. That woulda been somethin' outta this world. Hoowee!"

Joss couldn't help but laugh aloud. Sam reminded her of her late maternal grandfather, a man who never minced words, had no filter, even around the children. She found his crude candor refreshing, which made it easier to be there shooting the breeze and confessing all this to him as she was.

And so, confess she did, relating to him details of her and John's working past in New York, his role as vigilante, Leila, all of it, as she knew to. Some of what she told him he already knew, as John's surrogate uncle and confidante, but he didn't know the whole story surrounding Leila. With Joss filling in the details, things made more sense now.

In turn, he gave her more background to John's past in Colorado. She learned more about his father's influence on John's career path, the refinery explosion that killed him, the effect that's had on him ever since, Jessica's death, and more. Throughout it all, she gained even better insight into what made John tick, why his moods seemed to change with the sea tides, and why it was easier for him at that moment to be in Golden more than anywhere else.

"Now, this business about you comin' out here to bring him back east. How's that goin'?"

"Well, not so good, Sam. He misses it a little, but you didn't see him after he lost the baby to the criminal element in New York. He'd just risked his life to recover her from some very dangerous peoole, only to lose her to the most dangerous of all, forever. And then, I...told him I couldn't work with him anymore when my colleague was shot. So now, this is where he is, and I can't even change his mind."

Sam cleared his throat with a cough. "Don't give up, gal. He needs to get out of here, get back to havin' a purpose in life, a use for all that talent he's got, or it'll fade away. He'll fade away. I've tried to get him interested in the local police force here, talk to a few of my friends on it, but he won't hear of it. Keep on him. He might change his mind."

"I don't know. John can be pretty stubborn, as you realize. But, Sam, thanks for this. Between here and Iraq and the CIA and working with me, he's been through a lot."

"Aww, we all have, sweetie. John just tries to keep anybody fron seein' his, and because of that, it's always right there, on his face. He's not Superman, though sure enough, he's a talented son of a bitch. Best shooter I ever did see, both in combat and peacetime-but even Superman has _his_ weaknesses to bear. You know, John's a sensitive sort, probably woulda made a better schoolteacher, or somethin', personality-wise. Only problem is that, though he hates killin' anybody, he's damn good at it. Once the military was able to tap into that killer instinct, that side of him that can be deliberate, methodical-efficient-they had him. They had him, Joss, and they put a machine gun in his hand. Then the Agency came for him. He only did it to serve his country. But they played on his patriotism and done him dirty. Another man in that situation would have turned rogue, sold his kind of skill to the highest bidder, and who knows how destructive that coulda been for our entire country, the world? But not our John. Ever the boy who shoulda become a schoolteacher. Always with his heart in the right place."

Joss continued to listen in rapt attention, to the man whom she could see clearly, as much as he teased him, loved John as if he were his own son. But soon, they were interrupted by the loud gurgle of Joss' tummy. At the sound, both of them laughed, Joss more out of embarrassment than true humor.

"We been jawin' each other's ears off for so long, I never asked ya if you was hungry or not. My apologies, Joss. What'll ya have?"

"I'd like to try the buffalo burger again, if that's okay. Didn't get a chance the other night when you brought the other one over."

"No problemo, Joss. And this one's on me. Millie! Millie, get out here, woman!" he bellowed like a siren over the thinning din of the other patrons. A small, slim woman, about sixty years old, with a platinum blonde bouffant hairstyle, wrapped in a hairnet, came scampering over to where Sam and Joss sat with a pad and pen. She looked as if she'd been well and truly rushed the whole afternoon.

"Yes, boss?" she asked in a nervous whisper.

"Millie, this here is Joss. She's a friend of John's, all the way from New York. Get her a buff burg, willya, and a side of fries and slaw, and whatever she's havin' to drink. It's on the house."

"Oh, hello, Joss! So nice to meet you! Welcome to Golden! Uhm, right, one buff burg comin' up..." Millie scampered back the way she came, off to the kitchen to fill Joss' order, as well as get extra ketchup for another table that stopped her on the way. Sam could have done it, but because of Joss, he was taking owner's privileges, and therefore left his job and hers to Millie for the time being.

"Thanks, Sam. I owe you one." Joss said, patting his hand, and giggling in sympathy for poor Millie.

"Ah, now, be careful there, Miss Joss. I might have to think of a way for you to return that favor that don't include John. That fool boy better get his act together where you're concerned or I'll have to steal ya for myself. You just let me know." He said, wagging a finger at her, a naughty glint in his eye.

Joss began to laugh again, and she kept laughing until a new set of tears, lighter, different from those in the cabin from the night before, fell from her eyes.

##

John busied himsef around the cabin, trying to keep his mind off the fact that Joss had run off on him again. He got more wood out of the shed for the fireplace, ran the engine on his truck to warm it up, cleared away more snow from the front yard and back deck area, brushed Bear's coat until it shined, vaccumed and swept all the rug and floor spaces, caulked the drafty window in Joss' room, and other tasks around the property.

_Why? Why the hell had she answered his damn phone? _Yes, she was a detective, with an innate curiosity, but dammit, he wasn't a case for her to crack anymore; she was a guest in his home. Where did she get off doing that?

And then he stopped and laughed aloud. The irony of his chagrin caught him full on. Part of the reason Joss was still alive, particularly in light of Elias' vendetta against her, was because he and Finch cloned her phone, had Fusco spying on her, and because he insisted on stalking her and Taylor, day and night. Some of that included breaking and entering her home when she wasn't there. Her turning the tables on him this once couldn't hold a candle to his countless invasions of her privacy, just as she'd said, even if for a noble cause.

He supposed the encounter between Joss and Jenni would have had to have happened soon enough. Joss was there for a little while longer, and Jenni was chomping at the bit to get with him again. It wouldn't make sense to hide the two of them from one another, or even try. But he knew how insecure Jenni was, and he didn't want Joss to suffer for something that was partly his fault.

It was an impossible situation. The woman he loved would soon walk out of his life-again-while the woman he was fond of in his way, but not in love with, would be there to service his physical desires. But as much as he was a man who enjoyed giving and receiving sexual pleasure, he needed more than that. Having Joss there over those three days, with their rebonding through dance, dinner, snow play, talk-_and_ near-consuming passion- reminded him that. With Joss, he could do something he simply could never do with Jenni: give up his heart and soul as well as his body.

However, he couldn't do that either, not ideally, if she wasn't there. And she wouldn't be. Instead, she'd be back at the 8th, back to being the best damn cop he'd ever known, focused on her job, her son. Not him. Never him. There was no room in her life for a legally dead vigilante, wanted in four different countries. That was the truth that always hung between them.

But that belief didn't stop him from wanting her. It didn't stop him from yearning for her gorgeously soft mocha body, her smile, the sweet whispers from her throat, telling him that she loved him and wanted him too. Nothing on this earth could stop him from longing for that, day and night.

As he broke out of his reverie and put the finishing touches on dusting the mantle piece, the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Joss coming back to him, John quickly put the duster away, wiped his hands, and smoothed the front of his ARMY tee shirt before going to the door. Bear had also heard the doorbell, and barked at the sound. The two of them approached the door excitedly, Bear leaping against it on his hind legs.

"Joss, I'm glad you're back. I-"

He stopped in his tracks. The woman before him didn't have warm mocha skin or inky black hair in pigtails and a bandana. Instead, he stood in front of a blonde with loose, long hair, and icy blue eyes, eyes reddened with tears.

"Jenni. Hi."

"Not who you were expecting, John?"

Dodging the obvious answer, he instead turned his own question. "How are you?"

"I've been better, John." Her eyes zeroed in on his, wide, accusingly.

"Yeah, Joss told me you called earlier. I'm sorry I wasn't here to intercept the call. And I accidentally forgot my phone. Again, I'm sorry about-"

Jenni brushed past him inside, her boots left at the door, along with her coat, as if she owned the place. "Hey, Bear," she said, scratching the dog's ear. Bear wagged his tail and sniffed her in greeting, but he wasn't nearly as effusive with his affections for Jenni as he was with Joss. It was as if he was expecting someone else to come through the door, too.

She was possibly stewing for a fight, and he figured he deserved it if she was. He'd let her unload if she needed to. It was the least he could do.

"Would you like some coffee, Jenni? I can make a fresh pot."

"No, thank you." She roamed around the large living room. "Place looks good, as always. So, where is she?"

"She's, uh, out. She left after I got back in from a run with Bear, and told me that you'd called."

"Oh, well, sorry. I didn't think it'd be a problem to call. It never has been before."

"It wasn't, Jenni," he lied. "I just wasn't here, and...look, why don't you sit down, hmm?"

Jenni sat in the leather easy chair, but not before reaching over to give John a hug and full kiss on the mouth. He accepted both as she offered them, but there wasn't much enthusiasm in his response. Then, she settled down in the easy chair.

He moved across the room to take up a table chair. Facing her, he attempted small talk. "So, how have you been faring out in Pleasant City? I take it the snow is melting like here."

"Yeah, it's good. I was able to drive with little problems. So, where is she?"

John felt the exasperation creep up his neck. "I told you, she's out. I don't know where. Why is that important, Jenni?"

"Because I'd like to meet her properly. Because you have her staying in this cabin-she said you insisted-and I knew nothing, _nothing _about this. You never said anything about having a guest here, other than me. And then, come to find out that it's _Joss? _The woman you said was in your past? God, John!"

The exasperation was full born now. And though he knew he couldn't blame her for being a little upset, her attitude was still trying his patience. "I had no idea she was going to be here, Jennifer! She was passing through. The storm was coming. I couldn't let her go and get stuck out there. So yes, yes, I insisted. That's my right as the owner of this place, to offer sanctuary to my friends, and I _do not _have to check that with you beforehand. Is that understood?"

Jenni's face turned further into a scowl, but she piped down a little. "Right. You don't have to check anything with me. I'm only your girlfriend, the one who's tried to be here for you. Well, is that all you offered her? 'Sanctuary?'"

John slowly turned his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means, John. You said in your sleep that you loved her. And then, it was just the two of you here, stuck in this cabin. Don't tell me you just talked all this time. You certainly seemed to have gotten some kind of personal attention. Nice haircut, by the way. I guess she did that?"

"Yeah, Joss...styled it in the way in which she's used to seeing it from our working partnership. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing." He absently ran a hand through his full-bodied hair. He could feel Joss' presence as he did so, and it made his spirit sparkle in response.

"It's nice. Makes you look even hotter, if that's even possible. My compliments, absolutely." Her mouth set in a grim line, almost like a pout.

"Jenni, look...Joss is my friend. My dear, dear friend. You and I have an arrangement that I don't have with her. She is very important to me-but she will be going home soon. Do you get that?"

Jenni didn't respond right away. And then, she turned to him, pulling her top open, her bra down, and her fulsome, pink-tipped breasts sprang free. Her blue eyes filled with heat. And her voice got suddenly softer, plaintive. "Prove it. Make love to me, John. Right now. Please. I've missed you fucking me during this crazy storm. I couldn't wait to get over here and see you again. Mmmm, come on, John..."

The effect on him was not unlike what it normally was when he stripped off her clothes; Jenni had a beautiful body, and he enjoyed it. However, when he slowly walked over to her and knelt in front if her, taking her lips with his own, and fingering her pink nipples to pebble hardness, he suddenly wasn't able to maintain the usual rush of desire that he did with Jenni. He knew that she was becoming more aroused at his attentions, but when she reached, with a moan, for his dick he shifted his body away, and stood up, with a heavy sigh and an eyeroll skyward.

"Jenni, how about we have some lunch first? I have a marinated chicken in the fridge. Why don't you help me prepare a nice spread, eh? We haven't done that in a while, either."

Jenni's chest rose and fell heavily with desire, while her face held a perplexed expression. But she acquiesced. Adjusting her bra and her top, she stood up and followed him to the kitchen sink for washing up. When they got there, she once again, without warning, decided to reach her arms up around his neck and pulled his head into yet another kiss, her tongue snaking into his mouth.

It was at that moment that the front door jamb turned. Through the kiss, John could hear the rustle of bags, and his dog scampering on four paws, running to greet the entrant at their door.

##

Joss was thankful that John saw fit to keep the door unlocked. She hadn't thought to ask for a spare key, and with her second flight from him that morning, a key would have been the furthest thing from her mind. But now, after spending much of the rest of that afternoon getting to know Sam better, as well as some of the regular patrons, she was seeing that the melted snow was refreezing a little with a drop in temps, so the sensible thing was to head back and park the car. If there was any tension to be dealt with, she would, like an adult.

Upon slowly opening the heavy wooden door after the outer screen, Joss gently pushed her way in so as to not hit Bear in the nose. She heard the dog hearing her come in, and with his usual energetic self, he was there to see about her.

"Hey there, Bear honey. How are you fella?" she cooed softly. "Have you had a good day, boy? Gosh, what a great pal you are. Ah, didn't think to get you a treat when I was out. Next time, I promise."

Pushing her way in further, John was next to greet her at the door. He sported a sheepish-no, slightly apprehensive-smile at her entrance, and offered to take her bags from her so she could undress from her outerwear. It was then that she noticed the other lady boots and the blue parka on the coat rack.

Softly, he spoke to her, as if he didn't want whoever else was in the cabin with them to hear. "Are you okay, Joss? I was worried. We haven't exchanged numbers and you don't have a key. Please, please don't run off again like that. We can talk. You know that. Just...don't leave without telling me where you're going. I don't know what I'd do if anything-"

"John, what do you want me to do with these carrots-" Jenni's voice trailed off as she came face-to-face with Joss, slightly in a huddle with John. He closed his eyes slowly as she approached them, bracing for a scene-but there was none. Jenni just stood there, staring at Joss, wide-eyed, perplexed, perhaps, her mouth slightly agape, though no sound came from it.

It was Joss who decided to break the ice. "Hi, I'm Joss," she said softly, with a slight smile and an extended hand. "You must be Jenni."

Jenni still appeared taken aback at the address, but all the same took the offered hand. "Joss. _You're_...Joss. Wow..." was all she could seemingly manage.

"Yes, we spoke on the phone this morning. I'm sorry...about how that went."

"It's okay...Joss. No problem. John here explained everything, and it's all right. Didn't you, sweetie?" Her eyes brightened considerably from just a moment before, and John looked at her, wondering whatever had brought that on.

"Yeah, right, I did. We're okay. Hey, Joss, have you eaten? I've got a chicken being prepped for the oven. We could all have an early dinner together. What do you say?"

"Oh, John, now, now don't rush the poor woman. She just got in. I'm sure she's not that hungry, right, Joss? Besides, I _think _there's only enough for two. Chicken's not very big."

John ignored her. "There's plenty. Also veggies, potatoes. Come on. Have some. I make a mean baked chicken."

Joss wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but she knew these two were in some kind of game she wanted no part of. But, she actually was hungry, and the meal sounded great. "Okay," she said. "I'll join in, on one condition."

"What's that?" John asked.

"That you let me help. What needs chopping? Do you have any cornmeal in the house, John? I could bake some cornbread. Anything."

"Mmmm, that sounds great. And I do, indeed, have cornmeal in the house. What about some cornbread, Jenni?"

Jenni seemed crestfallen at the suggestion that Joss help them. "Whatever. Sounds all right. I'll finish the carrots."

So the meal prep continued, but now with Joss involved. John worked on the bird and potatoes, Jenni the veggies, and Joss the cornbread. Most of the talking involved John and Joss discussing her day out, including seeing her seeing Sam. Jenni for the most part, remained silent, save for a thwack of a spoon or a huff of frustrated air after chopping more carrots and prepping snap peas. After a few hours, everything was ready. The cabin smelled like Thanksgiving.

Jenni went ahead and set the table, making certain that her place was next to John's. When it was time for all to be seated, she openly smirked at Joss, unmistakably so, once John was next to her. For his own part, John remained silent as he began serving the platters, his eyes never far from Joss' face for more than a few seconds.

Joss sat on her side of the table solo, her hands folded quietly on top of the table while she waited for servings.

Once they were served, each began to dig into their meals until Bear came lurking about the table, looking for a spare scrap of chicken to grace his presence. John threw him a scrap or two, and Joss grinned.

"I'm telling you, John, you spoil that dog. Did he get my sausages from breakfast the other morning?"

"Hmm, he sure did. You didn't want em, so it was Bear's lucky day. He thanked you, in absentia."

"Oh, well, you're welcome, Bear honey." As she addressed the dog, her and John's glances bounced on and off each other like soft wisps of silk, with coyness and furtive smiles their means of communication as they continued to dig into the delicious meal.

"Oh, John, this chicken is wonderful! You like my cornbread?" Joss winked and pointed her knife at him, with a playful warning.

"Mmm, it's delicious Joss. If I'd known you baked like this, I'd have broken into your house more often-at dinnertime."

"Well, if you could have found me at home for dinner, you'd have been lucky. You know how it was at the 8th."

John nodded, pensively and smiled. "No. Never a moment's peace. But please do, give me the recipe, then. Very nice, this."

"My mama would kill me. Taylor would too, I think!" They smiled at one another again, quietly, but in a way that sent warmth radiating back and forth across their places at the table.

None of this was lost on Jenni, who had indeed miscalculated the course of John's attention span from his placement at the table. She toyed with her food, pushing it to and fro on her plate as her irritation grew. Finally, she decided to change the subject. "So, Joss, what did you say you did again? You're a cop?"

"Yes, I'm a detective with the New York Police Department. Homicide. And you? John told me you were a student. What are you studying?"

"Oh, nothing as fancy as being a detective, you know. I'm just taking classes now. Don't know what I want to do yet. I'm young, though, twenty-four. I have time. It's good, you know, being young," she said, and Joss couldn't be certain if the woman was taking a dig at her or not. That was the sense she got, at least. But she decided not to respond.

"So, John, how do you know Joss? You never told me you were a cop."

"Actually, no, he's not, but-"

Jenni waved her hand, but in a most gentle voice, interrupted Joss by saying, "I was speaking to John, actually, Joss. Go on, John."

Joss was stunned. Where had _that _come from? John, for his own part, glared at his seat mate for her own impudence, perhaps the first time he'd actually looked at her since they sat down. "Jenni..." he said, in a low, warning voice.

"Well, go on. Tell me how you know her. It's not a big secret, is it?"

John sighed after finishing a spoon of carrots he'd put in his mouth. "I worked in private security, as I told you, but that often meant assisting the police in hard-to-solve cases. Robberies, murders. I, along with my parter, would often assist Joss on unsolved homicides. Drug or mob related, mostly."

"Oh, so you assisted her so much that you became close friends. How nice." Joss felt the venom clearly now from this Jenni, this little girl-woman who couldn't hide the poison darts in her eyes, if her life depended on it.

"Yes, he's always been a wonderful help to me and my department. We miss him."

Jenni's icy blue eyes widened in mock innocence. "Oh, I'll bet you do. But you know, Joss, maybe that line of work is too taxing for someone like you, if you need John's help so much. A new line of work, maybe?"

Joss wrinkled her nose at what she was hearing, but refrained from going completely off on the young woman questioning her credibility out of nowhere. "Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean? I like my job, and I'm good at it, with or without John."

"Jenni, cut it out." John said in a low, dangerous voice.

But Jenni didn't stop. "Well, I'm sorry, but, I'm just saying, it's obvious that you have a lot on your plate, Joss, what with having to chase after and lock up all those drug gang members and "hoodrats" in New York. I mean, I just met you, and I see the wear and tear all over your face. I can see why you would need someone like John on your side. Even if you are good at what you do, as you say, you can still use him to scare all the little thugs away you can't, right?"

Joss was stunned once again "Whoa, wait, wait. Just what are you implying, girl? And I'm homicide, not narcotics."

Jenni spun her head so that her blonde hair whipped out of her face. "And I'm not your 'girl.' I'm John's girl, here, in Colorado, not New York. He's with me, and that's the way it is. He wants _me_! And you know, I don't really care what your job is or how much you 'miss' him. That's a dangerous life, a bad life, where terrible things happened to make him leave you in the first place. This is his home now. He's better off here, where he belongs. And no ghetto cop is going to change that!"

Though he'd been silent throughout most of the exchange, John had heard enough. He threw his heavy fork down with a loud clatter, stood up, did a half-spin, and pulled Jenni out of her chair by her upper arms. "Get up. _Get up!" _he growled through clenched teeth and pursed lips. "Let's go. Now!"

"John!" Joss said in alarm.

"John, what are you doing? Stop it! Let go of me!" Jenni exclaimed frantically as he forcefully led her to her coat and boots.

"Get your things on. I'm taking you home." His face was the picture of unchecked rage as he removed her from the dinner table.

"You can't! What about dinner? What about...us later? John, this is so wrong! You're making me leave because of...of _her_? Just calling it as I see it! She's as transparent as plastic wrap, John!"

John sat her on the floor and waited for her to put her boots on. She didn't dawdle, despite her protests; she knew better.

"I'm making you leave because of _you, _Jennifer. How dare you treat a guest in my home, _my _home, like that? You are acting like a child and you're _way _out of line! Joss doesn't deserve this, and you will not continue. Do I make myself clear? Now, get your damn things on, and let's go."

"Oh, please! This is what you want? This...this..."

"Say it, Jennifer, and I swear I'll pick you up and throw you out in the snow, right on your ass. Instead of that, I would rather peacefully and calmly drive you back to Pleasant City, in your car. Give me the keys when we get outside."

But Jennifer said nothing. She hastily got her boots on, and her coat and headed towards the door, with tears in her eyes. Looking back at Joss, who remained at the table, she smiled and said, "see? He's still coming home with me. Not _you. _You may be in my place right now, but look. Even when I piss him off, he still ends up with me. Think about that."

Joss walked over from her place at the table towards her slowly, purposefully, causing Jenni to take a few steps back as the space got smaller, her porcelain skin ruddy, her icy blue eyes pink and watery. A flash of fear crossed over those eyes, but she kept her quivering chin up high.

Joss would have laughed at Jenni if she wasn't so pathetic. The man was tossing her out, threatening to literally do it, because she was acting like an ass, and _this _was a victory to her? That he was, further, freating her like a child by taking her keys and driving her home-in her car? Some women were too desperate for words.

When Joss got close enough to her face so that she could see her pores, she spoke slowly, deliberately, with as much force of quiet steel as she was capable of. "Exactly, Jenni. You got him. He's all yours. _So what the fuck is your damn problem, bitch?"_

John let Joss have that moment, watching silently while Jenni reacted to her words, stunned into her own silence. She had no reply. John knew that part of this was of his own doing, and in that way, he was sorry for Jenni. But he'd have never guessed she would have come out with that disgusting crap she spat at Joss. She deserved that verbal smack, and nothing less.

He needed to take care of this. And he would, starting now.

John got his peacoat and boots on, and remembered his phone this time. He would have to call Sam for a lift back.

Before he left, however, he caught a glimpse of Joss' face. Her lips were parted, the space between her brows creased, the way it would get when she was troubled, worried. He quickly closed the distance between them and stroked her face in concern.

" You okay? I'm so sorry, Joss. I never dreamed she would do something like this," he said softly.

"I'm fine, John. You go and see her home. I'll clear up here."

"No, no, don't worry about that. I'll be back in a half hour. I'll clean up. Okay? Half hour. You stay put, and don't worry about any of this. Look out for Bear for me? Please?"

"Of course. Spending a little quiet time with my buddy would be welcome just now, I think. Okay. Half an hour. Be safe, John."

John smiled cautiously and rubbed her cheek before turning towards the door and exiting with Jenni. Pretty soon, Joss heard the din of more heated words from John's voice, then car doors closing and the roar of tires on slushy snow heading down the back yard path. There was nothing else to do for Joss but sit down back at the table setting and listen to the relentless rushing of blood rushing in her ears after what had just taken place.

What a vacation this was turning out to be.

##

That "half-hour" John said he'd return in became one, then two, when Joss finally gave up on waiting for him and went into the den, her plan being to make a phone call back to New York. She'd managed to finish her dinner with two unfinished plates in front of her, but since John insisted that he'd do the clean up, she figured that would be fine, since he was only supposed to be gone for a little while. However, that plan seemed to have changed.

She needed to hear from Taylor. She missed her son. She missed not having her life be a trainwreck by only having to worry about him and herself getting shot in the line of duty. It had only been a few days, but it seemed like a lifetime ago since she'd gotten on that plane and come to Colorado. She knew that he and Finch were taking good care of each other, but she still longed to hear him say as much.

Taking her phone out, she curled up on the knit blue couch. When she heard Taylor's voice answer her, her heart skipped.

"Hey, baby! How's everything back home? You okay?"

"Ma, hi!" Taylor answered excitedly. "I'm fine, ma. How's Colorado so far? Mr. Finch said you were making progress on your lead."

"Yeah...progress. It's going all right, though there's still some tricky bits to get through. School okay? "

"Yeah, ma. I passed my math test with an A. Mr. Finch and I are supposed to go to some fancy restaurant to celebrate. I gotta wear a suit, ma!"

Joss laughed at her son's horror for getting dressed uo. "Well, good! Make sure you take pictures. I want to see you all spiffy."

"Awww, ma..."

Mother and son continued to talk and laugh at each others' jokes and other comments for another hour before they departed, finally, off the phone. By the end of the call, John still hadn't returned, but talking to her boy had been just the tonic she'd needed to forget the drama at the dinner table for a while. Taylor could always make her feel better.

After a stretch and yawn, Joss removed her thin cotton sweater, which she put on to cover her orange tank before going shopping. Since she was in the audio-visual end of the cabin, she got up to thumb around some of the movies on hand. Not in the mood for killer sharks in Jaws, or light sabers in Star Wars, she finally settled on pulling two reels from the stacks. One was a reel of classic Bugs Bunny cartoons, and the other was Christopher Reeve's Superman. Figuring that she needed a laugh, Joss spooled the film onto the projector and got it to go, her good girl status in school helping her to get the needed projectionist's skills to do so.

Once the credits began rolling, Joss settled back onto the couch with a couple pillows. Bear wandered in to join her there. Her first choice, the Looney Tunes shorts, had her laughing almost immediately, and she continued to laugh until her belly hurt.

There were about eight cartoon shorts in all, and she got through about five of them before she and Bear drifted off to sleep after a while.

She didn't hear the creak of the door, nor the bare feet step across the floor, into the room with her, and she only stirred when she felt a rush of cool air on her cheek and warm arms wrap around her body. And she was completely unprepared for the moist, soft lips on her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her mouth.

##

"Mmmm...hmmmm...what...John?" Joss woke to full consciousness with that kiss to her lips. She opened her eyes to see the most handsome man in the world look back at her as she was the rarest jewel he'd ever seen.

"Hey, sleepyhead," John said softly, almost in a whisper, stroking her hair and running his fingers across her lips.

"What...what happened?"

"Bugs Bunny stuck some TNT down Yosemite Sam's pants and made it hard for him to sit down for a while," he said, with a low chuckle.

"No...no...Jenni...how is she?""

"She'll be okay, with time. There is no more, Jenni, Joss. I broke it off with her tonight. That's why I was gone so long. Wanted to end it gently, but also so there was no mistaking my intention. That's all done now." He hung his head low, and let go of a heavy breath.

Joss sat up fully then, with shock on her face, but elation in her heart. Should she have been elated? Yes-for John, yes. It meant that this bigot of a girl wouldn't be be plaguing him with guilt for no good reason.

But for herself? What did it mean? What could it mean? Could she dare hope?

"I'm sorry, John," she said sincerely, tamping down a little on her selfish thoughts.

He shook his head. "I'm not. Something I should have done long before now. I wasn't doing her any good, leading her on like that-and neither was she any good for me. It's for the best. And after what she did to you out there, the attack on your character...I couldn't abide that. You're too important to me."

Joss nodded. "Thank you, John. That means a whole helluva lot. Really."

"I meant every word," he whispered before planting another kiss on her forehead. "C'mere," he murmured. "Gimme a hug."

Joss was more than glad to oblige. While John knelt on the floor, she opened her legs to accomodate his large body in a slight straddle and wrapped her arms around him. He moaned softly in return, his own embrace pressing her breasts tightly against his chest. She could hear and feel his breathing, his heartbeat his very soul through the dark blue cardigan he wore. Meanwhile, his hands began rubbing circles over her shoulders and arms, her back and her hair, his fingers making a mess of her pigtails, as he tucked his face in the crook of her neck.

"Come sleep with me tonight, Joss," he whispered against her ear. "Please. I want you. I want to wake up next to you in the morning after loving you all night."

Joss could feel her resolve to resist him slipping away. But then, why resist? Jenni was out of his life. He was free of her. He was free to love Joss. He wanted her. She knew that well. And she wanted him. Just once, just this once, she would be bold enough to take the man she wanted. To enjoy him. To revel in his love and lust.

To let herself go with him, wherever he wanted to take her.

Joss pulled out of his embrace to place her hands on his beautiful face. His eyes were drunk with desire, as were hers, and she claimed his lips for herself, the passion unfettered and unrelenting. It was only a matter of time before tongues were dueling, breaths were shortened, and moans emanated from both of their throats. John pulled Joss into his lap on the floor and continued to assault her mouth, his tongue darting, then snaking in and out, causing her to instinctively writhe in wanton heat.

After a moment, though, she abruptly stopped. Her eyes were big, brown rubies of desire, and she rubbed her hands hungrily against his sweater-clad chest.

"I want to go upstairs. Slip into something else. Give me a minute?"

"You're fine in what you got on, Joss. I'm just gonna take it off you anyway." He was holding his control by a very thin thread.

"Hmmm, be that as it may, I'll just be a minute."

They stood up together and walked to the door hand-in-hand. Joss escaped through the upper level door, but not before planting a kiss on John's lips. "Mmmm, hurry back, beautiful, or I'll come and get you," he said huskily, as she scampered up. Meanwhile, he went to see about lighting candles in the living room, and making sure that the dwindling flames in the fireplace were stoked. Then, he stripped off his clothes, stroked his already maddening hardness until it flexed and beat against his belly, pulled back the sheets and quilts on the sofa bed, and waited in the luminous dark.

##

Joss had never known her heart to pound so fast, not even when chasing down her first suspect. Her fingers trembled as she took her hair loose, and she nearly dropped her cranberry lip color when trying to apply it. But, she was good. Slipping into her cotton nightgown, she teased her hair until it framed her face, and accentuated her full, sexy lips, tiny nose, and dainty cheekbones. Her skin glowed in the lamplight of the room, and she applied a touch of scented lotion to certain spots on her body.

When she came downstairs, she found John waiting for her on the bed, covers laid to the side, his beautiful body-including his unmistakable maleness- on top, illuminated by the firelight. He stared straight at her, as if he were paralyzed to do anything besides, his eyes wet with longing, one hand on his chest, rubbing himself slowly, gently, the other hand at his side. When she approached him, he sat up abruptly and pulled her into his lap again, slamming her down onto her back, his mouth a study in hunger.

His hands were also out of control, as he began to rub her body through the fabric of the cotton gown. His groans began softly, whisper like, but as he became more aroused they became louder. Joss, too, could not help but let the sounds of passion escape her, and she allowed her own hands to roam his back, his chest, his ass, his thighs, anywhere she could touch him.

"Oh, God, Joss, I need you so much..." he groaned before he sat her up and rolled the nightgown up from her legs to pull it off her. Throwing it on the floor like a discarded rag, he covered her again with his body, his hands feverish across every part of her. They kissed, they moaned, they writhed against each other, each one brought to the brink of lusty madness. John's heavy panting matched Joss' and their symphony of love was beautiful to hear, each note born of genuine passion.

Joss still had her thong on; John decided to tease her by pulling the thong taut against her mound. She screamed softly, the friction against her clit doing damage to her very sanity. He body's response was to spread her thighs wider, wrapping them around his back. That had her slam mound first into his throbbing merciless dick.

"Oh, good Jesus," he groaned. "Oh, Joss..."

"I feel it, too, John...it's so hot...oh...oh...mmm...ah..."

"That's it, baby. I want you hot. I want you so hot you burn. Do you burn for me, honey? Do you?"

"Yeeeeaahh, uh huh, baby...burning up..."

"Damn it, I want you so much...so much, Joss. You make me crazy, been making me crazy for months..."

"I'm right here, baby. Right here...ohhhhhhhhhhh...damn..."

John had unwrapped her thighs from his back and slowly peeled her thong off her. In the firelight he could see her glistening womanhood, slick with juice, begging him to taste it. He dipped his head to feast. Joss raised her hips off the bed, her head and upper body twisting to and fro, her lips parted. John decided she wasn't wild enough, though, so he began to slowly torture her by reaching up to twist and rub her nipples between his fingertips.

She thought she'd die "Ohh...ohh...ohhh...my God! Ohhhhhhh...ohohohohoh...shit, John...aaaaahhh, baby, baby...yes..."

John voiced a naughty grin as his mouth and fingers continued their work. She was getting close to her first-but not only-orgasm of the night. He could feel it. And it would knock her socks off.

"What are you gonna give me, baby?" he said, briefly lifting his head. "Hmmmmm? Tell me what you have for me in your pussy, Joss. I know it's good. It's wonderful. And I want you to give it to me. Been waiting, wanting it for such a long damn time."

"I'm...uhmm...uh...uh...I'm gonna come, John...ohhh...shit. So good..."

"Then, come. Come for me, honey. Let go...just let go..."

And so, she did. The build up of heat from his fingers and mouth spilled over and she exploded like a pleasure bomb, shots of electricity blasting all over her body. As her hips bucked and thrashed, and her volume rose loudly enough to fill the room, John found his own restraint completely gone, and he slid his own body up and entered her. Pushing her hips up and back so that her knees nearly matched up to her breasts, he pounded and pounded her, deeper and deeper, the springs and foundations of the sofa bed creaking and shaking so loudly, it moved slightly out of its spot. By this point, the both of them were shouting, John with his forehead buried in the peacock pillow, Joss with her mouth tucked at his ear.

It was only then, through some hazy recollection of sense, that he realized that he was inside her without having given any thought to protection. He'd used it with Jenni, but even then, sometimes he forgot, and now he didn't have any in the house. More importantly, he didn't have any at that moment, that crucial moment when his whole world was about to explode.

But it was too late to stop. He was powerless against the orgasm that now rumbled through his dick. With a deep groan and his very last shred of sense, he threw his head back, quickly pulled out of her and released his seed across her belly, and over her breasts and nipples. Reveling in his passionate helplessness, Joss grinned seductively and began to rub his release across her body once he was finished.

"Jesus, woman," he panted heavily with a satisfied smile, sweat pouring off his chest and wetting his hair. "You are amazing...fucking...amazing...so beautiful...so beautiful. I always knew...always..."

She pulled herself up to kiss him soundly before pulling him close to her and lying down with him. "So did I, John. So did I."

The two long parted lovers lie together quietly now, their bodies uncovered as the warmth of the fire reached out to them. Later, there would be time for them to snuggle under the quilts. For the time being, they just held each others hands and caught their breaths, still reeling from the mind-blowing coupling they just shared.

Bear, knowing when, decided to make his entrance into the living room at that point, ready to lie his body down in front of the fire. Before he did so, however, he walked over to John's side, where his human pal stroked him gently, repeatedly, until he drifted off with a smile on his face.

John had everything he wanted right then and there. It was the most content he'd felt in years.

**A/N: I need a cigarette. And I don't smoke. Whew! **

**I hope y'all dig. Extra long chap, again, for those of you who like that sort if thing. Be well and drop some lines, peeps. Oh yeah-pardon the typos. :-)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So, as we saw in Chapter 13, John ended things with Jenny after her nasty comments at dinner, and then came back home to get it popping, finally, with Joss. Now, we have the morning and day after, where, by the end of the chap, John has plans for the two of them to make up for the ruined day before. Basically, this one's about smut, you guys. It is rated M after all. Heheh...**

**Have fun, kids!**

John awakened before Joss to get Bear ready for his walk. The sun hadn't yet risen, but the moon was still out, full and bright, and its light managed to shine through the lowered curtain just enough to bounce magic off Joss' skin. She was lying on her back, her black hair sprawled in wildness across his pillows, her silver hoop earnings visible in its tangles. Her luscious breasts rose and fell with her soft snores. One of her curvy mocha thighs was half entwined in his quilt, half in the heavy blanket, while the other was free of cover, showing off a tantilizing vision of smooth hip, thigh, leg, and delicate ankle. Her toenails were still painted in the black polish that also adorned her fingers and she wore a tiny silver ankle charm, with what looked like the letter 'T' attached to it.

Her doe-eyed lids were soft in sleep, free of tension or worry, and her dainty little nose flared gently as she breathed. Such a sweet, beautiful woman she was. And finally, she was all his.

In all honesty, he shouldn't have ever thought himself to be physically attracted to Joss as he was. She was tinier in height than the women he usually dated, curvier; and she wasn't anywhere near a blonde like Jenni or Jessica. Her sometimes sharp tongue, however, should have really been the thing to turn him off and keep him off, and at first, it almost did. He wasn't in the mood to be interrogated that day the beat cop picked him up after that fight with some punks on the subway, not to mention that anything he said would have been held against him in the court of the CIA. She tried her best to get him to talk, but he wouldn't budge. However, that didn't mean that he wasn't, despite himself, paying close attention to her-her voice, those doe eyes, the way her badge and gun rode up on her hip every time she sashayed her way toward and away from him.

The primal man inside him, the one that found killing easy, even if his rational mind found it a distasteful blight on his soul, most assuredly responded to her natural feminine energy. She was, fundamentally, a very attractive woman, even if not his type-or so he thought. It just took John a little time to get to know her better, to understand her heart and how she deeply cared for justice in her city, to finally put all of those pieces of the head-and-heart connection together.

At this moment, he couldn't even see another woman in this bed now. There was no one else who was supposed to be there. He'd gotten his Joss. She was with him. And there was absolutely no one else he'd rather be with.

He thought about just going ahead with Bear without leaving a kiss, so not to wake her, but he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. A little kiss was his for the stealing. She might not stir; besides, if she did awaken, she could just go back to sleep.

Dressed in his favorite peacoat, cap, jeans and boots, he slowly walked back over to the bed from the dining area, where he had been fitting Bear in his gear and leash, and kneeled at her side. A gentle smile crept across his face as he leaned over, and with a stroke of her cheek, kissed her forehead, then her lips, whisper softly, before rising again.

And much like Sleeping Beauty, she did stir. With a soft moan and an innocent yet arousing twist of her body, she awakened and stared at him, a sleepy, slightly confused look in her face.

"John? What's happening? Where are you going at this hour?"

He stood over her and smiled again. "Hi, baby," he said, softly. "Just gonna take Bear out, run a quick errand, that's all. How's the bed? Comfy? Have a good sleep?"

"Mmmm, very. I can see why you like this. And it's warmer here. Hey...do you want some company? I can get dressed quickly and-"

John stopped her. "No, no, no, you stay here. Sleep more. It's very early, as you said, and I do this with Bear from time to time, these pre-dawn walks or runs. You can take the man out of the military..."

Joss grinned as she straightened and pulled the covers up. "Mmmhmm, this is true. Well, if you're sure..."

"Yes, you stay and sleep. We're good, Bear and me. Besides, you'll need your rest for when I get back," he said with a devilish lilt to his voice and a deadpan wink.

Joss, remembering their coupling the night before, wiggled her body in a play of seduction. "Hmmm, well, in that case, I'll take the suggestion. Though, I must remind you that you fell asleep on _me _last night. I was promised hot sex _all_ night, and that didn't happen. I was awake for hours...ready for more, John..."

"Well, why in the hell didn't you wake me up? I'd have given it to you."

"Because you looked so peaceful, so untroubled. I didn't want to take that away. Never been able to watch you sleep like that before, next to you. After a while, I was just content to watch you until I drifted off myself."

"Won't happen again, I promise you," he said with an earnest shake of his head, his eyes directly on hers. He meant it. She'd never have to worry about that, ever. He had intended to keep her wrapped in his love the night before, after so long denied. He'd make up for it. Most assuredly.

She laughed and chucked a pillow at him. "It's okay, John, really. I was overjoyed with what did happen last night."

"More where that came from, honey. Much more. But right now, this guy's gotta get out there," he said thumbing at Bear, who gently sauntered over to John, his leash dragging behind him.

"Okay. Bear honey, you be a good boy for John, and I'll see you soon. Back to sleep I go. Be careful."

He leaned over and kissed her again with a grin. "Of course, we'll be careful. We have you to come back to. Wouldn't mess that up for anything."

Grabbing the leash, he called to Bear and the two fellas headed to the door. Upon opening it, John looked back at Joss, naked and snug in his bed, there for him when he got returned, and his heart soared, while his dick began the familiar beat and strain against his belly.

She would most certainly need her rest. Every last bit of it.

##

When John returned, he found Joss still in bed, asleep, but she'd apparently gotten up for a bit, because, instead of her previous nudity, he now saw that she was sporting his ARMY tee shirt from the day before, which he'd worn under his cardigan, and which had been tossed on the floor in the heat of desire. Had it gotten cold in the cabin? It didn't seem too bad before he left with Bear, but he had been fully clothed. And it was just the tee shirt she wore.

Keeping his coat on, he quietly took off his boots, and unleashed Bear, who scampered off to explore the kitchen. He was probably figuring that there would have been some sausages cooking with his name on them, but no dice. Still, he wasn't one to give up so easily, and so busied himself with sleuthing out the floor territory near the fridge.

While Bear kept himself busy, John, still in his coat, climbed into bed, partially on top of Joss. His heavy upper body had to make her take notice. And if that didn't do it, the chilly cold of his coat and hands would.

She was out like a light, he noticed, with a grin. So, he decided to gently rock the bed back and forth, his face nuzzled against her cheek to see if that would do the trick. It did. Her eyes flew open and she turned her head as best she could to glare at him, a heavy, sleepy-voiced threat her greeting.

"John Reese, if you don't get your ass off my back, I'm gonna turn you out, but good!"

John exploded in laughter while withdrawing himself from her back. "Why, Detective," he said, in between giggles, "I would only hope that you'll turn me out. Please, _please _turn me out, sweetheart! You are so beautiful when you're pissed off, you know that, Joss?"

She turned to face him, and sat up, cracking her own smirk at his teasing. "You monster. Lying on top of me, cold and all. What are you trying to do, anyway, crush my boobies?"

"Oh, no, can't have that. Can't hurt my two new babies like that. A tragedy that would be," his smirk was on full power.

"_Your _babies? Since when?"

"Since last night. I've even thought about naming them. The left baby would be 'John' and the right one would be 'Mr. Reese.' Perfect for my two babies!"

Now, it was Joss' turn to laugh. "You have lost your mind, John! It's all the snow out here. Makes you delusional."

John's eyes darkened, and suddenly, Joss wasn't laughing. He moved over to her just enough to lift the shirt and pull it over her head. "No, I'm not kidding. They're mine, just like the rest of you." He had indeed claimed her, months before, in his mind, in his heart, as they strategized and ran the streets of New York, chasing perps in the shadows, fighting the good fight for law and order. She just didn't know about it. Him giving voice to that secret claim was just sweet icing on the cake.

His gaze traveled from her eyes and slowly crept down to the part of her naked body not covered by the blanket that he'd just revealed. He had a way of looking at her that was a mixture of heated lust, awe, and gentle desperation. She found herself getting hot again, little by little, as he continued to stare. She decided to dare him.

"Well, John, if that's the case...maybe you better come here and claim what's yours." On that challenge, she crawled out from under the covers to lie back atop them. With a rock of her body back and forth like an exotic dancer, she slowed after a moment-and seductively spread her thighs open, wide, to his view. Her moist heat beckoned him further, as she slowly writhed her lower body in rhythm, while her hands and fingers found her clit and began to stimulate herself.

John sat at the edge of the bed. He willed himself, with every bit of self control he had, to keep his hands still. He wanted to watch her. Wanted to see her please herself, make herself come before he pounced on her to make it happen again. He was going to try to be as still as he could, or at least as still as his rock hard erection would allow.

One of Joss' hands found her nipples, one then the other, and in concert with the rising sensations in her clit, she began to moan. Her hips and thighs continued to writhe up and down, the seductive dance also causing her musky aroma to reach John's nose, and the hardness that was already overwhelming now threatened to kill him without release. But he stayed put.

"Ahh...ahhh...oooh...John...come on here, man. Come here. Take off your clothes, John..."

John sucked in a breath at her words and the throbbing pressure they caused in his already painfully stiffened erection. "No...not yet, honey. Keep rubbing your clit nice and good like that. I want to see you come. I want to hear you come, just like last night. Though I..." he was so hard, he could barely speak, "might need to pull my dick out...God, you are so damn hot...sexy..."

Joss continued, stimulating herself into a near frenzy, her gasps for breath getting louder, almost guttural, and her body's movement getting wilder.

"Aaaaahhh...aaaah...yes...yes...aaah...John, please...please come here and touch me...mmm, fuck me...I need it...please...my pussy...please...it was so good last night...please give it to me...I want _you _to make me come..."

He closed his eyes at her soft plea, his chest rising and falling faster than a freight train. He quickly changed his mind. His control was now gone. How the hell could he possibly sit still with a sweet temptation like that? With a groan, he stood up like a bomb blast, unbuttoned his coat, threw it on the floor, pulled his shirt over his head to follow, and undid the fastenings on his jeans. His mouth and body was on hers in the flash of a second, tongues and lips tasting and teasing, hands feverish over each others' bodies. John slid his mouth lower and lower from her lips, touching her tilted chin, her smooth neck, and then her breasts, his tongue lapping over one nipple, then the other, and back again, feasting on the two globes he'd just christened his babies, before travelling down her belly, and into her dripping heat.

"John! God, yes! Lick it, yeah, lick it...ohhhhhhh...yes, do it...do it, John..."

Joss couldn't be still, and her orgasm was coming closer, closer, the build up of tension begging for release.

But suddenly, John slowed the movements of his magic tongue. When she whimpered in protest, he grinned and stared up at her, a mixture of hot desire and mischief in his gorgeous eyes. "Mmmm, don't you wanna fuck, Joss? You were begging for a fuck. My dick inside you. Hmm? Isn't that what my sweetie wants?" His lilting voice and naughty words, soft and sexy, were like a drug for Joss and her body yielded to the effects.

Her eyes widened in anticipation. "Yes...that's what I want. That's what I want. Fuck me, John Reese," she murmured frantically, dizzy in lust, her body humming for what was next.

"Mmmm, you got it," he said huskily, "but just give me a sec, okay, babe? Just a sec." Reaching for his coat, he pulled out a box of condoms from his pocket he'd stopped and bought at the nearby gas station while walking Bear, and took one out before chucking it on the floor again. Tearing the wrapper with his teeth, he carefully rolled the condom down his shaft, and then positioned himself between her thighs. Unlike the night before, he entered her slowly, pressing gently at the entrance of pleasure, deliberately thrusting, taking his time, each movement drawing him deeper into her tightness, the walls of her sex loathe to let him go. And John was about to lose his mind.

"Jesus, Joss...aah...so good...mine now...dream come true...ahhh...so fucking good..." John rose up then, on his knees so that he towered over her. Grabbing her ankles, he spread her legs open in a **V **formation and suddenly began to ram at her sex like a power tool. Joss screamed and gasped, while her body thrashed about like that of a woman possessed. His thrusts hit her clit and vulva relentlessly, each one taking her that much closer to her climax. John wanted to watch her face, see the expression of passion that he heard coming from her mouth. But he couldn't stop the sensations coursing through his own body, and his eyes shut tight against them. Heavy, panting groans took his breath away, through gritted teeth, while his sweat mingled with hers, and when he changed the speed of his thrusts from rapid to slow and hard, with a slight bend of her thighs for an even wider access, the climax she'd been hurtling towards split her apart, like volcanic lava flow-burning, burning hot and uninhibited.

"OHHHHHHHHH! OHHHHHHH, I'M COMING...JOHN! OOOOOOOOOOH, MY BABY! OHHHHH..."

"Fuck...fuck...fuck...aaaaaaaaahhh...Joss, honey...FUCK!" John exclaimed, as his own climax shot through his body, emptying into the condom. He continued to move until the spasms fully subsided, and his sweaty, heaving body collapsed atop hers for an embrace of kisses, each of them generous with the sweet-nothings of spent lovers. But the tiny voice in the back of his mind warned him that he needed to pull out before he made a mess of the ejaculate in the condom. Doing so carefully, the condom was laid on the nightstand, while each of them caught their breaths and recovered from their loving.

"Is that better, Joss?" he said with his head turned toward her, when he was able to catch his breath, though his chest and belly still heaved from his passion.

"Oh, yes...mmmm...that was...that was...fantastic. But I hope that's not all you got."

"I told you," John said, "much, much more where that came from. I've wanted you for too long to not give you as much love as I have inside me, Joss. This is just the beginning." Not too long afterwards, he could feel himself getting hard again, and with her nimble fingers helping him out, pretty soon, he was fully erect again, ready for her.

They made passionate love three more times that morning before drifting into a nap, the two lovers this time entwined in each other's arms. It was mid-afternoon when they awakened, and Joss' taking of John into her mouth until he climaxed, dribbling his seed down her neck and chest, was his reward for his own skills in her pleasure. When he'd recovered from that, they both decided to shower upstairs, together. John also had an idea for how they could spend the rest of their day.

"Hey, you know, we didn't get that day out we'd planned on. It's the weekend. What do you say we have it today?"

"Well, I got the souvenirs for the boys already. That was what I was after, really."

John shrugged. "Well, did you get anything for yourself, Detective?"

"No. Just the boys."

"Well, then, it's settled. Today is about you."

"I don't spend a lot of money on me. Mostly for my son. Parenthood for you."

"Who said anything about you spending money, Joss? I'll take care of it."

Joss looked up at him in mild alarm. "You? You don't have to do that, John. I brought some money with me, and Finch gave me some as well. That's okay."

John sighed, but in humor, not exasperation. He fully understood how independent Joss was, and how important it was for her to do everything on her own. But he wouldn't let her win this one.

"I know I don't have to, Joss. I want to. You deserve to be spoiled a little bit for a change. Always there, taking care of everyone but yourself. Putting everyone ahead of your needs. Let me take care of _you_, pamper you, while you're here with me. Please. _Let me be good to you."_ He ended his plea with a brush of his lips across hers.

"John, I..."

"Shhh...it's done. We'll head to Denver for lunch first, then the Galleria, and a few other spots I know around the area that I think you'll like. Don't worry about the cost. I'll pay for everything. Whatever you want or need, you get. Okay? You'll have a good day, you'll see."

"Oh, John, I already have. You're wonderful. Okay, if you insist. You can take me shopping."

"I do insist. Come on, let's go get that shower. Can't wait to lather you up." The glint of desire was slowly but surely behind that peculiar light in his eyes.

##

After a shower and a quick late breakfast, in which Bear finally got his wish for sausages, John and Joss got out of their robes and dressed for their day out. Joss had washed John's hair again, and, in a surprise twist, he bryl-creamed it afterwards, plastering it down much the way she remembered it from New York, complete with part on the side, and a soft quiff in the front. She was so stunned at how handsome he was she nearly choked on her orange juice. She was glad he didn't seem to catch her reaction, as he continued his preparations for the afternoon.

Since the weather was once again spectacular, and the snow was melting rapidly, Joss figured she could get away with wearing her low-heeled tan leather boots over her snug fitting jeans instead of the snowboots. She would also borrow John's old leather bomber jacket, as it was somewhat lighter than her winter parka, while still effective against the chill that remained. And she liked the idea of wearing his clothes. The tee shirt she'd found in the sweater on the floor after returning from the bathroom. And she'd wanted to feel his essence on her body while he was away. So, she did. She would ask him sometime how he felt about seeing her in his duds.

John put in a call to Sam so that Bear could spend the afternoon at the bar with him. More than likely, Sam would grumble about having the mutt on the premises, scaring the customers, but he'd actually be happy to have Bear around the place. They indeed did have a much better relationship than in the past.

"Thanks, Sam. Bear will love it. He always likes staying with you."

_"Bah, don't push yer luck, boy. Just bring him when ya bring him. Good-bye."_

John knew the call was over, even before the dialtone sounded in his ear like a siren. That Sam had more bark than Bear-but luckily, that's all it was.

"Okay, Bear's gonna stay with Sam until we get back."

"Right, John. I'll wash up the breakfast dishes."

John didn't object this time. He was in prep mode for their day trip, so he thought of something else that needed to be done. "Great. I'll get the truck started, let it run for a bit. Haven't driven it in some weeks, and after a storm it needs a reminder that it is a truck. I'll be back in a minute." He walked over, gave her a kiss, and then headed out to the shed

Joss was feeling giddy. Really giddy. The most hopeful and excited she'd felt in years. She and John were together, not only as reunited friends, but as new lovers. Wonderful, fantastic lovers. He was so skilled in bed, so skilled. She saw stars, the moon, and Venus with his mouth on her. No wonder that red-faced bitch was reluctant to let him go. She could completely understand now how sex with John could become addictive.

Well, too bad. He was with her. She was the bitch in his bed now. If he'd called her that name today, she wouldn't slug him this time. Because it was true. And she loved it.

John and Joss. Not John and Jenni. It had _always been J_ohn and Joss. He loved her, had always loved her. It wasn't just sex like it had been with Jenni. But all the same, she would keep him satisfied well and truly. Yes, she would. She knew how to do that. And now, he was taking her out to spoil her rotten.

_Joss, girl, I don't know what you did to get him interested beyond catching bad guys, but you better knock the wood in thanks! _she thought to herself as she scraped plates and ran them in the soapy basin.

Joss had gotten the last pan into the drying rack when John returned, his eyes making direct, loving contact with hers. Bear came along with his leash, knowing that it was time to get going and John got him hooked up.

"Thanks for the dishes. Truck's running great. You about ready?"

"Yeah, yeah...let me just dry off and get my things."

When Joss was ready, John caught her in a hug, and placed a searing kiss on her lips. She had flat ironed her mid length hair straight, and he tangled his fingers in it as he broke the kiss.

"I can't wait to spend some time with you out on the town. No worries, no ex-girlfriends, none of that. Just you and me, the way it should be." They kissed again, John's tongue forcing it's way into her mouth. She whimpered at his exploration, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

It was Bear's nudging nose that brought them back to earth. They both laughed.

"I think he's ready to go. Maybe we should table this until tonight?"

John nodded. "Yeah, makes sense. I need to concentrate on the road anyway, Little Miss Distraction. Well, I have keys, so let's go," he said, as he dangled them in front of her. As they turned towards the door, Joss got hold of Bear's leash and walked behind John with the husky. Catching a glimpse of him, she just now noticed his mid length brown leather trench, navy railroad pants, and coffee colored cowboy boots, different to the ones he always wore. He smelled clean, of soap, after shave, and shampoo. He was a walking erogenous zone. And he was all hers.

Joss made damn sure to knock wood three times as they exited the cabin and climbed into John's covered pick up truck. Soon, they were in their way to Sam's place, each with a smile on their faces.

**A/N: John did extremely well with the money he made working for Finch, so in the next go round, Joss will indeed get spoiled rotten on their daytrip to Denver. John's possible return to New York will come up again, as their sexual relationship continues, but he still has reservations about all that, as his guilt over losing Leila, despite Joss' reassurance, remains. We'll see how everything goes. Also, he'll get to speak to Lionel again at some point, and that should be fun, haha! Thanks, all, and be well. :-)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: FanFicdotnet went a little loopy this week, and I've been making the work transition, so those two things combined put the breaks on chap posting for a little while, but here is the next installment, finally, of 'Missing,' where John gets more lewd fatherly advice from Sam ( hahaha!) and Joss gets her shopping spree. I enjoy this notion of John spoiling his independent detective, and so does Joss, once she fully gets used to the idea. A little incident threatens to mar their time together, but in the end, the love comes through, as it will. Enjoy, all, and Happy Labor Day!**

When they disembarked from John's truck, Sam was at the back entrance, waiting for them. He had a gruff expression on his face at first, but it brightened into a smile when he saw Joss with John. So far, since the night he'd dropped her off, that hadn't happened. And because of that fact, and the events of the day before, Sam's naughty mind began to race.

The three of them walked over to meet Sam, Bear's gait increasing to reach Sam for a hug and an affectionate rub of nose against his leg. John carried a bag of items for his dog, including his food, his water dish, his favorite fetch ball, and other items he might need. Much like Joss, Sam thought John spoiled Bear, just a little. But he'd indulge him, since the damage was already done.

"Well, well! Look at you two. Out for a trip to Denver, eh?"

Joss beamed. "Yes, yes! John's going to be my tour guide. I'm looking forward to it, I must say."

"It's about time this bugger did something more than five feet away from that damn cabin. Never woulda imagined that a man who's been all over the world, more than once, would end up bein' such a damn homebody. Good for you, gettin' him outta here, Joss."

Joss laughed. "Well, I can't take credit, Sam. It was John's idea."

"Hmm, still. You're a good bit of motivation. How'd ya pull that off?"

John and Joss exchanged knowing, heated glances, the effect of which was to make Joss blush. None of that was lost on Sam.

"Uhh, John, I have what you asked for upstairs. Why't you come on in and get it? You come on in, too, Joss."

Once they were inside, John whispered to Joss that he had a little business to take care of with Sam up in his office, and that he'd be right back, which he punctuated with a slight nuzzle and back rub. John then followed Sam upstairs, while Joss found a seat in the corner, and Bear went exploring in the small doorway.

The "business" that John and Sam had, was access to Sam's safe, where John had several thousand dollars stashed, one of a few places for which this was true. He had some at the cabin, at Sam's and in a few safe deposit boxes in Denver. Sam suggested that John take some from the stash in his safe because it had just been sitting there, and he didn't want to take the chance on spending something he hadn't earned himself. Because John had not wanted to leave too large of a digital trail, he cashed out the money he'd earned and saved from his days as Finch's partner carefully, over a few weeks time, and took it with him on that bus, a considerable fortune in currency, along with his fully loaded Sig, halfway across the country. Most of it he still had.

And on this day, he was going to spoil Joss with a few thousand of it. He was going to enjoy this. And he was determined to see that she did, too.

But when the two men got settled in the office, Sam shut the door behind them, and playfully shoved John against the wall.

"Boy, what ya done gone and done with that pretty gal downstairs?"

John let a silent grin creep slowly across his face, his eyes giving off the light of a teenaged boy who'd just lost his virginity. When he didn't speak, Sam broke out in a guffaw that could have brought the Rockies down.

"Wait, wait," he sputtered between chuckles," do ya mean to tell me...ya got some of that sweet-"

"Sam, don't say it," John said, casually waving off a warning. " but...yes, yes. Joss and I became ...intimate after I got back from breaking up with Jenni last night. She's pretty damn wonderful, Sam. Always has been. And now, I know, even more so, how wonderful she is."

Sam gave his surrogate nephew a long look, a look filled with admiration, happiness, and, if he could voice it, a twinkle of envy. Patting him on the shoulder, he grinned like the old reprobate he was. "Ya know, I might try and ply the dog for information. Fly on the wall kinda shit. I can speak canine real good. Because, between that blondie and Miss Joss down there, he's got enough to go on to start makin' stag films some day. It's a regular fuck show down there in that durn cabin."

Now it was John's turn to laugh. "I don't know that there would be an audience interested much in my sex life, Sam. And besides, Bear has his own crush on Joss. He wouldn't be trying to do me any favors there. I wouldn't put it past him to try and steal her from me, my ole pal."

"Him and me both," Sam chortled. "She must have taken my advice to heart yesterday when she was here. Good on you, John!"

"Actually, it was me who pounced on her, Sam. Soon as I got back to the cabin I went for her. She'd been watching one of my films and had fallen asleep. So beautiful, she was, so sweet. My sweet Joss. I held her, kissed her. And she woke up and I told her about what had happened. And then, she gave herself to me, body and soul. My God, Sam, I've never had a woman so good. A passionate, sensual lover, in every way," John said, with reverence in his voice.

"I can bet the farm on that, son. Yes, I can! Just don't know why ya didn't try harder to get in that gal's stuff before last night, ya fool."

"Because of Jenni being in my life, we'd made an agreement not to touch each other, not to cross that line. But dammit, Sam...I couldn't. I knew I couldn't keep that promise, after wanting her for so long. It would have happened, eventually, anyway. No way was she going back to New York without me knowing what it was to have her. You know, she tried to leave me after finding out that I was in a relationship, and I nearly ripped the door off the front entrance trying to stop her. I wouldn't let her go, Sam. And now..."

"Well, boy, like I done told ya last night, you did a good thing. I'm proud of ya. Ya made a grown up decision, gettin' rid of that little blonde harlot. Shit, I wish I'da been there to hear her talk like that in front of Joss. A good pop in the mouth she'da gotten, for sure. _Then_, I'da tossed her out on her behind. Let her get her damn self home."

"I didn't want to run the risk that she might hurt herself after that, so I drove her. But hey, Sam, wait a minute, what's this about you wanting to hit a woman? When I got into it with Joss a few days ago, you read me the Act, and you were right. Same goes for Jenni."

"That's different," Sam barked. "She ain't no woman. I don't reckon I know what she is, but she ain't a woman. Joss," he thumbed downward towards the bar to make a point, "Joss, she's a woman, through and through. A man could go into battle with her by his side, and know full well that she's got his back. _That's _a real one. They don't come along everyday, either. You're a damn lucky man, John."

John nodded. "Yes, indeed, Sam. You're absolutely right." John smiled, remembering the times she'd been there to save him, starting with his arrest after the fight on the subway. He was going to end it all then. But her spirit, her example, changed his mind. Her beauty, inside and out, changed his heart.

When he caught Sam's face again, however, he was giving him the side eye. "But, uh, John, are ya forgettin' somethin'? The reason that sexy gal came all the way out here to find yer sorry butt?"

Joss' 'mission,' arranged by Finch, to get him back 'home' with her, came to mind instantly. Of course, he hadn't forgotten. He actually secretly thanked his old friend, almost from the beginning, for having convinced her to come and look for him. But was he turning course from his decision not to follow? He wasn't sure. They hadn't discussed it fully since he told her he wasn't going back to New York or the numbers. But now that they had given in to their need of each other, everything was different. Or was it?

It was a subject that would have to come up again-and soon. Joss wouldn't be there much longer, and he damn sure didn't want to lose her now. But he might. If they tried to do this long distance, it wouldn't work. His heart and body would be in agony, hearing her stirring voice over a cross-country telephone but not being able to touch her, to hold her, to make love to her. That was for certain.

"We haven't talked about it much, no. Just trying to enjoy having her as long as I have her, Sam. That's good for today, you know? After that..."

"_After that _ya hightail yer ass on outta here on the next plane back to New York! Dammit, John, now, _you_ love that little gal downstairs. Ya love her so much it hurts ya, deep down inside. I know. I know what that kinda love is like, and like I said, it don't come along everyday. God's given ya another shot, boy, though God only knows why. Ya understand that, John?"

John nodded, and he fully understood what Sam was telling him. It was the same thing he'd been telling himself over the past few days. Still, he replied, walking over to the window to gaze at the snow still covering much of the ground, "it's not that simple, Sam. Joss wasn't the only reason I left New York when I did. You know that."

Sam walked to John's side, and sighed in sympathy for his surrogate nephew, whom he indeed knew was still in raw pain over failing to save that little baby girl from traffickers. "Yes, John, I know. The child. That is a terrible thing. Bastards."

"Do you know how many times, before I left the City, that I nearly put a bullet in my head after I failed to keep Leila safe? The last that I tried it and the gun still didn't go off, I figured it was just time to get away from there. Just leave. I could exist, half alive, but only if I left-and came back here. That's how I got mixed up with Jenni. She was the first soft and pretty thing I came across. And I used her, I did. But because I was numb-with drink, with regret-I didn't much give a damn. Sex would be that way I'd pretend I was still in the world, still functioning. Since I couldn't even manage suicide properly, I'd pretend I still wanted to be here. All it was. But she wanted more, as was her right, her expectation as a young woman who had given her love to someone else. She just wasn't getting it from me. And in spite of everything, I do regret _that."_

Sam pat John on his shoulder twice before he spoke. "Listen, John...I know that broke yer heart after everything ya did for that little mite to keep her safe, only to have it all turn so wrong. But ya gotta go on, man. Ya got a second, hell, third chance, to be happy, right downstairs. That gal loves you, too, or she wouldna come all the way out here, in this horrible shit weather, just to find yer sorry ass. Left her kid behind and all. Fer _you_, boy." Sam continued, with a pointed, chubby finger in John's face, enunciating each word clearly, "I _tell you, if you go and fuck that woman up, John Reese, I'm gonna knock a pisser and a half outta you-and you know I can, too."_

John grinned warmly at his old friend. "Yeah, I do, Sam. Thanks for the reminder-and everything else. I hear what you're saying, old friend." John gave him a warm pat on his shoulder.

"Awww, shoot. Here. Take yer damn money so ya can make that woman happy today, and so she'll ride yer pole pony tonight when ya get her home again. All that plump an' juicy ass is wasted on ya, though. Don't know what the hell to do in order to get her to keep givin' it to ya." He sighed and he slapped a manila envelope, thick with cash, against John's chest.

"Oh, yes, I do, Sam. I damn sure know what to do-and how to do it, real good. You should hear her tell it, Sam." John raised his eyebrows in knowing mischief, thinking he had the best adoptive uncle he could have ever asked for. And also, if Joss got wind of this little chat, she'd shoot him.

Sam's expression changed into something only The Grinch might appreciate. "Attaboy, Johnny, ya lucky sumbitch," he said, with a wink.

The pair of them nearly fell down the stairs together, as if they had been drinking all day, laughing. When they reached the bottom, John, while still holding his money, pulled Sam over with his free hand into a hug and kissed his cheek. To his curmudgeonly credit, Sam just kept on grinning.

##

Joss busied herself by getting more acquainted with Mille while she waited for the boys to come back downstairs from the office. Millie told her that she was originally from Kansas City, but ended up in Colorado after she left high school. After years as a hair dresser, she fell in with Sam and his bar and never looked back. He could be a grumpy old coot, but he had a heart of gold-plus, she never paid him much mind when he was grumpy. It all worked in the end.

The grumpy old coot in question and John were all grins when they first returned, but suddenly clammed up when they noticed Joss peering at them with interest. All that did was raise her suspicions further, but John's approaching kiss silenced her detective's inner voice.

"Hello. You ready?" he asked, after the peck on the lips, and smiling proudly.

"Yeah, if you are. But what were you two laughing about?"

"Laughing? We weren't laughing. Not really. I mean, nothing really were we...laughing at."

"Um hmm. I'll just bet, John. Come on, let's go. Sam, thank you for holding on to Bear for us. John and I appreciate this. Really." She walked over to him and gave him a lingering smooch on his other cheek. And he didn't look like a little bit like Kris Kringle before, his reddedned face sure made him look like him then.

"Well, gosh, Miss Joss. That's quite all right. Ya can-ya can bring him anytime ya like...sure, sure...anytime." Sam was beaming like a schoolboy, at which point John pulled Joss by the arm and led her to the door. "Goodbye Sam, Millie. See you tomorrow sometime."

"Yeah...yeah...tomorrow," Sam hiccuped. "G'bye John...Joss."

When they were gone, Sam sat down at the bar, where Millie had a beer all ready for him. He needed it, too. And it was good thing that the big crowds were practically non-existent at this point in the day. After all, who wanted to see the old coot at the saloon sporting such a wicked hard-on as what Sam had just then?

##

John opened the passenger side door of the truck and helped hoist Joss inside. When he was satisfied that she was settled in, he got in on the driver's side and attended to a few small tasks, the most major of them being a flip through the contents of that manila envelope he had been carrying since coming back from Sam's office.

Joss' jaw dropped when she saw what was inside. More cash on hand, in a mix of small and large bills, than she'd ever seen all at once, outside of some drug raid spoils at the 8th. And if she didn't know why he had all this money, she'd absolutely believe he had been into some shady shit involving either drugs or weapons-or both.

He had the money tied with paper fasteners in three separate piles. From one pile, he tore off the paper fastener, sorted through it quickly, and removed three crisp twenty dollar bills. "Hold on to these, will you, honey? We'll need that for gas on the way." He handed her the money, which she took, as he'd asked, still completely dumbfounded that he had all this cash on him.

After giving her the gas money, he scooted up to reach his wallet from his back pocket, in which he put the remainder of the unloosened pile. The leather bulged with the infusion of currency, but it took it all in just the same. He replaced the wallet. The other two piles remained in the envelope, which he proceeded to place in the breast pocket of his coat, before grabbing his sunglasses to put on, and then the truck keys out of his side pocket and inserting them into the ignition.

He had done all of that rather methodically, as if it was indeed the most normal thing in the world for a man to carry what Joss estimated had to be at least five grand, in cash, around on his person, just willy-nilly. She just continued to stare at him, a mixture of the same giddy awe and that more sensible oh- I-don't-believe-you-John from their old days in New York, whenever he pulled some unorthodox shit that he really should have been arrested for a million times over.

"Ready to get going, babe?"

"I suppose I should be, all that money you got on you! You plan on buying out the whole mall, John?"

John smirked at her sheepishly. "Well, not me, honey. You. This is for you. You just point or go and try on, and if you want it, I'll pay for it. I'll take care of you. Very simple."

"John..." she began in protest. Her old independent-woman defenses were back up a little.

"Joss, I told you. I want to spoil you, baby. Look, every penny of the money I have I earned, just as anyone else might. Well, maybe not just as anyone else might, but you know what I mean. I don't carry plastic anymore, or other conventional tools like checking accounts and you know why. And I'm legally dead, remember? Even when I did do all that, I was essentially committing fraud with my dead man aliases, anyway. It's fine, okay? Come on, sweetheart. Let me do this. Please."

She sighed in defeat. "Okay, John. But if I spend it all, don't say anything. I do like shopping," she said, smiling coyly.

John laughed in a low voice. "I know you do, Detective. I've checked out your closets, remember? You must have at least three pairs of shoes for each day of the week. And where the hell do you wear all those sexy dresses I saw? Certainly you're not parading yourself in front of Fusco and Simmons. At least you damn well better not be."

"I go out sometimes, John! I do! Just...not as often as I'd like to with everything on my plate. But I still enjoy the thrill of the hunt, that sale you just can't pass up, even if I do spend most of my time at work. I can say, though, that there are only two dresses in my closet that still have the tags on them. Only two! I'm actually proud of that."

"Well, if you want a couple more, they're yours. So, lets's go get you dresses, shall we?"

"Okay. John?"

"Yes, honey?" he asked, clipping his seatbelt and checking the rearview mirror before turning the ignition.

"Thank you." She leaned over and kissed him soundly on his lips, their tongues just gently brushing one another's lips.

At the break of the kiss, John smirked at her again, this time as if he'd been drugged. "Ummm...make sure your sealtbelt's fastened. And you're welcome."

##

In the scheme of things, Golden wasn't that far off from Denver, but because they'd gotten a bit of a late start that day, traffic on the main roads was a bit snarled up. John took the opportunity, then, to go the backroads that he knew of, which gave Joss a chance to see more of the picturesque landscape that this part of the country was known for. She enjoyed being the passenger for once; whenever she and John spent time in a vehicle in New York, she did the driving. On this excursion, she was simply allowed to sit back, stare out the window, and listen as John told her little anecdotes about the history of the state, its geology, and landmarks such as the site of one of Golden's most well-known exports: Coors beer.

It would be another hour before they got of the exit ramp into Denver. John suggested a late lunch at a little French restaurant that was a favorite of his, which was out of the way of the main hustle and bustle of the big city. The restaurant sat next to a little bookshop that he also frequented, and which helped fill in shelf space in the den back home.

Joss immediately liked the cozy little restaurant, with its French-themed art posters, tiny tables, and delicious aromas. John knew the owner, Thierry, a local with French parents, who'd learned the ins and outs of French cuisine, at his mother's knee. Colorado attracted all types, it appeared.

The two greeted one another in the customary cheek-to-cheek fashion, and that was extended to Joss, whom John introduced to Thierry as 'my lady, Joss.' The designation was not one Joss expected to hear so soon after becoming intimate with him, but it sent a shiver of excitement throughout her body. She clutched his hand tightly then, and he proudly gazed upon his lady, an action for which Thierry, a hopeless romantic, was simply giddy over.

"Oh, you two will get the best seat in the house. It's been reserved, but I can call and say there was a mixup, and it was already booked by another party. Come, come! I never thought I'd see the day, John!"

They both grinned, the new couple, as Thierry led them to a secluded, soft spot near a window, surrounded by fragrant fresh flowers. Thierry pulled out Joss' chair for her, and she sat down as he began to run down the list of wine specials.

After all the drinking he'd done over the past few months, John hesitated for just a second, wondering if he should indulge or not. He was driving after all, and he didn't want to take the chance on losing control in front of Joss. But in all honesty, the urge, the compulsion to drink hadn't shown itself since she'd been there since she'd been there with him. A split second decision that he'd be fine with one glass made sense.

"For the beautiful lady?"

"Merlot is fine, thanks," Joss said.

"I'll have the same," John said.

"Bottle? Glasses only?"

Joss looked unsure, so John, with a twinkle in his eye, made the choice for them both. "Bring a bottle to the table, Thierry, but I'll just have the one glass."

_"Bien, _John. I'll return with menus in a moment."

Once Thierry had departed, the two gazed in each other's eyes. John's stare, so intense, so piercing made Joss giggle like a schoolgirl and she had to look away.

"What?" John asked, grinning softly and reaching over to take her hands in his and lay light kisses on both of them.

"Nothing. I'm just-I'm just thinking that this, all this, you...none of it would have been possible in New York, the way our lives were last year. Even if we had these feelings. It just goes to show how fucked up fighting crime can be for the crimefighter."

John raised an eyebrow in contemplation. "Doesn't have to be, Joss. I'm sure there are ways to work around the fucked up." And further, "hey, something on your mind?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, a now glum expression on her face. "I have to go home next weekend, roughly. Now, I miss my baby boy, and I even miss my job a little, don't get me wrong. But...but I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to leaving here. Especially now, after-you know..."

John's gaze held on her, even more intense and hypnotic than before. It was like he was studying her face, trying to capture every dimple, every pore, every blink of her eyes. "So don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't leave. Stay. Stay here and live with me."

Joss rolled her eyes and shook her head. "John, I can't do that. You know I can't."

"Yes, you can," he said in an almost whisper. "I own a small house, in addition to the cabin, in Boulder. My parents' old house. Perfect for the four of us."

"The _four _of us, John?"

"Sure. You, me, Taylor, and Bear. But if we decided on making more children, there'd be room for them, too."

Joss put her hands up. He was getting ahead of himself, talking about houses and children. It was like he'd had it all mapped out in his head, weeks, months before he could have possibly known he'd see her again. Yes, she could see those determined wheels spinning in his head, and, as much as she loved being with him, in whatever way possible, it made her shudder.

"Whoa, whoa, John. Umm, I don't think so. Taylor's in a good school in Brooklyn, has all his friends there, my mom is nearby. And he'd never forgive me for uprooting him like that. Besides, you're supposed to come back with me. That was the plan."

"Mmm hmm, that's true, Joss. But, you know, plans can change. Happens all the time. Especially after..._you_ _know_..." He punctuated his quote with a wink.

Just then, Thierry approached them with a cart containing an ice bucket with a bottle of Merlot, a basket of warm French bread with dipping oil, and two menus. He uncorked the bottle, poured their glasses, passed the bread, and left the bottle on the table before departing once more, to allow them time to look at their menus-and momentarily, at least, change the subject.

They toasted to their good fortune, and tore into the French bread and olive oil dip with gusto. Joss regaled John with tales of mayhem from her most recent cases, hammering home the point again that his presence had been indeed missed on the mean streets of New York. John just smiled and sipped from his glass silently; he wasn't above being affected by the stroking Joss was giving to his ego.

When it was time to order, John settled on the _coq au vin _with _pommes frites and salade avec haricots, _and Joss the _boeuf bourguignon_ with a side plate of apples, grapes, and select cheeses. And as giddy lovers will do, they took turns feeding one another samples of their dishes once served, John most eager to nibble on Joss' apples from her tiny fingers, the sweet pieces of fruit brushed with lemon juice to retard the browning. For dessert, they would share a large, sweet cream-filled _crepe_, generously drizzled in chocolate sauce and covered with fresh berries. Lunch, dessert, and three glasses of Merlot later, Joss was full, but happy. Everything had been delicious, expensive, and best of all, complimentary. She could get used to this. The only question was is if that "getting used to" might turn into a bigger problem than she'd anticipated before coming to Colorado.

##

The Galleria was a fairly large shopping complex, with five floors devoted to all manner of specialty shops, large department stores, and fast food courts. There was quite a crowd for an early Friday evening, but with the nicer weather coming through. Joss reckoned that wasn't all that unusual. And it's not as if the crowds in New York ever slowed down for any reason.

Shopping was a particularly favorite pasttime of Joss', even if she was careful about her budget as a single parent on a cop's salary. Once she got used to idea, she absolutely meant it when she told John that she could very well blow through that stack of bills he had in two places on his person. She promised inwardly to try and restrain herself, just a little.

Walking with John hand-in-hand, the first store they hit was Marshall Stone, the flagship department store of the Galleria, it's equivalent to Macy's back home. Let loose in the ladies' clothing sections, Joss found several pairs of designer jeans, each with designer pricetags, that when she tried them on fit like buttered perfection. It was a difficult choice to make after five tries, and she enlisted John's help in her decision making process. It turned out that he was more than capable when it came to women's fashion, with an eye towards fit and what colors clashed and which ones brought out the best in her natural features. In the end, she settled on two pairs of denim and one pair of blue, off-metallic leathers that she already had the perfect shoes to go with in her closet at home.

Three pairs of jeans and two hundred dollars later, they headed towards the dresses, where Joss found a neat little body-hugging black number, shoulderless with mid-length sleeves and a print flower pattern at the hem. When she tried it on, it was instant love, and John whistled his own approval as she came out of the fitting room, modeling the dress for him. Because it was early summer, she also dove into the cute little sundresses of varying patterns, that also seemed tailor-made for her curvy, petite frame.

There was a particularly soft yellow cotton flow dress that reminded her of the fabric of her favorite nightgown, and in trying it on, it made her feel instantly feminine. And there was one other dress she picked out that really got John's approval, a red strapless, stretchy tank number that accentuated her creamy mocha shoulders, and clung, like a glove, to her ample bosom, curvy hips, and thighs. It tapered off just past the knee, which gave a stunning tribute to her gorgeous legs. In the back, there was a V line that extended all the way down to the top of her fulsome ass, giving view to the grace of her spine and her soft skin.

"Damn, Joss..." he said, shaking his head, the undeniable tightening in his loins making him shift his gait a little.

"What? I like it. You don't like it?" she asked, wide-eyed, unsure.

"No, I love it. It's beautiful. But if that dress showed off any more of your treats, you'd be the one in handcuffs, Detective. I want you to get that one, but only on one condition: you wear it for me. All right? Call it 'John's Naughty Dress.' Just for me alone."

There was no denying the smoky heat in his gaze now as he let his eyes lazily trail up and down her ripe body, and Joss felt her nipples tingle and swell against the dress's stretchy fabric. Hell, for _that _look, and the low rumble of lust in his voice, she'd wear anything he asked of her.

"John's Naughty Dress, huh? Why that title?"

The smirk was on full effect now, and his hypnotic eyes continued to pull and control her, willing her to understand, to know well and truly, the depths of his sexual need. "Because 'naughty' is the only description for that dress and the things I plan to do to you because of it, beautiful lady."

"But John, we couldn't go out somewhere, maybe dancing or something first? This isn't a dress you just wear to take off five minutes later."

"No. No, no, that won't do. Not taking you anywhere in that outfit, so that other men can undress you with their eyes, with their thoughts. I'd have to carry a gun with me, and probably use it, too. Mmm-mmm, no. That's _my_ sexiness under that dress-and I'm not sharing. I've wanted you all to myself for too long, Joss."

He closed the space between them, then, his desire clearly evident from the bulge in his jeans. Before she could stop him, he lowered his head and captured her lips gently at first, with a lingering smack, before he deepened the kiss with his warm, probing tongue. There was no stopping John for Joss. His hypnotic mouth was always in control, and she had no power to slow its magic over her. Joss felt herself lose contact with the floor as her arms instinctively curled around his neck. John's fingers tangled in her hair while he worked his mouth expertly along with hers. It was soft yet demanding as the need between them built higher, stronger, the all-consuming passion dangerously close to overflowing where they stood. A whimper escaped her, emboldening John to go a tad further, his thumbs finding the undersides of her breasts over the stretchy fabric of the dress.

The cold reality that they were in a public place struck home soon, however, as, even in the throws of overwhelming desire both Joss and John couldn't deny nor ignore the intermittent catcalls and comments being lobbed their way as they continued to act like horny teenagers near the ladies' fitting room of a large department store. To John, it was funny, and a smile broke out against her lips as he continued to kiss her. To Joss, not so much.

"_Hey, get a room, you two! This ain't a motel!"_

_"Geez, what the hell is going on here?"_

_"There are kids here, ya know!" _

_"Damn, they gettin' down! Aww, yeah, baby! Sex ya man up, thass right, girl!"_

The one that froze Joss' blood rigid, however, was the most deliberate. And John's smile faded quickly away.

_"Hey, take your jungle fever somewhere else! Nobody needs to see that shit!"_

Joss abruptly broke off the kiss, her arms falling away from John's neck in a kind of muted shame, as if, she was trying to save a bit of face by grinning it off. But he knew that the slur had hurt her deeply, stung like the whip of a serrated lash. His tough NYPD cop, who had faced murderers, drug dealers and corrupt officers in her own deaprtment like a champ, had been wounded by the insensitive, disgusting words of a stranger of the white race, for the second time in as many days.

He wouldn't let Jenni get away with it, and he wouldn't let this asshole get away with it, either.

"You okay, honey?" he asked.

"Umm, no, not really, after that. But whatever. Listen, John, I'm going to get changed, okay? I think I have the dresses I want, so-"

"Good. Get dressed. I'll be right back." Joss looked at him in alarm. He had that expression on his face that she knew all too well: the look of the trained assassin that he was. The killer instinct has been aroused, and even if he carried no weapon, he was more than capable of dispatching someone without one. His entire body was a weapon.

"John! What are you going to do? Just leave it! We can just go on with our evening..."

He didn't respond, instead leaving her there to follow the offending store patron. Joss quickly ran back into the fitting room, quickly changed back into her clothes, and brought her selections to the clerk to hold them while she took care of something, promising to return soon. She then hurriedly took off in John's direction, desperate to keep him from doing something crazy.

When she saw him, after about ten minutes of frantic store scanning, he was casually strolling back towards her. She breathed a sigh of relief at that point, which was short-lived when she realized that she still didn't know what had happened. And she needed to know.

"John? What did you do?"

"Oh, just had a little chat about how bigotry is wrong, you know, and that ladies deserve respect when they're out shopping. Nothing serious." He punctuated his feigned nonchalance by at first staring at, and then flexing, his reddened knuckles into fists.

"John, you didn't..."

"Come on," he said, motioning her backwards. "Where are the dresses? You didn't return them, did you?"

"No, the clerk has them. She's holding the ones I picked out for me."

"Then, let me pay for them, and see what else I can get you, hmm? We've only just gotten started, sweetie." He smiled, brightly, a smile signifying that whatever he did-and how severely he did it-he wasn't going to tell her.

"Yes," Joss sighed forlornly. "It would appear that we have."

##

Seven hundred-fifty dollars and three dresses later, Joss got her shopping mojo back and they left Marshall Stone's for the shoe shops. Because Joss had small feet, again, Blaster Shoe Company was her oyster, and if she could have gotten John to buy her the whole store she would have. But instead, she settled on some tan wedge-heeled summer sandals with rhinestone straps, a pair of black pumps with a purple one-inch heel for work, and some low-octane flip-flops for the summer weather.

But her _coup de grace _came with the two pairs of three-inch stilettos she fell in love with and had to have. One pair was a deep cranberry-red suede and the other was a pair of glitter gold with straps just past the ankle, which she could wear with the flower print black dress, among other outfits. When she tried them on, it was as if they were long-lost friends, separated no more. Strutting about like she owned the place, bouncing and sashaying her hips, she impressed all the store clerks, and made John laugh at her antics. Yes, he laughed and applauded her impromptu runway strut, feeling lighter in his heart than he had in years.

"You like them, baby? You want me to get them for you?"

"Ohhh...would you? I mean, I haven't spent too much, have I?"

John scratched his forehead in amusement. "No, Joss, sweetie, you haven't spent too much. I repeat: do you like them?"

"Yes...yes, I do. I _love _them, John!"

"Then I think that settles it, hon!" piped in the store clerk. "Lucky girl you are-on a few counts." She winked at Joss. Joss knew the young clerk had been staring at John like she was blindstruck ever since they came into the store, but she didn't mind. She knew her man was fine as hell. It had always gone with the territory.

"Yeah, I am pretty lucky," she said, beaming with emotion at him. John said nothing, while simply pulling out his wallet and handing her the several hundred dollar bills she would need to buy her shoes. But his blush was unmistakable.

##

Before finally heading out of the Galleria, Joss visited the Italian Spa Store to pick up some skin products, Sephora for her favorite natural lip balm and some hair custard- a product which confused the heck out of John, but that she promised to talk with him about later-the chocolatier for some dark chocolate truffles and mint cremes, and last but not least, the camping store, to get Joss a lighter jacket than her North Wind that she'd brought from home. John insisted on that one, so she settled on a navy blue one, similar in style to one that he had. Another two hundred and fifty laid down on the counter like spare change.

In the course of their shopping, John dutifully carried all of her purchases, not once having an issue in doing so, even when she offered to take a few from him. He wouldn't let her. He also didn't buy anything for himself, save for the mint cremes, except one rather major purchase: a new laptop and software from BestTech, a purchase that pleased Joss, since it meant he wouldn't be as isolated from the world as he had been all those months any longer. And if the following weekend was to be their last, she'd want to be able to reach him, see him, somehow. Though, really, a Skype connection was a poor substitute for holding him close and smelling the natural clean of his skin. But if it had to be, then it had to be.

The nighttime darkness was starting to come on, and it had gotten cool again. Luckily, as they approached the exit, there were carts that customers could load their items into for wheeling out to all corners of the parking lots. After a stroll of a few minutes, they found John's truck and he carefully packed the back compartment with all the goods, careful to buffer the computer box in between other items. Once that was accomplished, John helped Joss into her passenger seat.

"There's somewhere else I want to take you," he said softly. "to buy you a few more things, special things."

"Oh, I've been so spoiled already, I'm not sure I can handle anymore. You've been wonderful, John. And I loooove my new shoes!" she laughed, stomping her feet against the floor.

"Well, good. I am glad of that. I actually quite like those golden glitter ones myself. Very, very sexy-which gave me the idea for where I'm taking you next."

"Well, I won't ask. I'll just let you drive and I'll find out when we get there."

And when they did get there, Joss' eyes flew open in surprise, and she howled in laughter as they pulled into the lot. The "somewhere else" was a small adult ladies' clothing boutique called _Chameleon_, with the the store sign blazing at them in a muted hot pink neon.

"John, really? This is where you wanted to take me? Ummm...okay..."

" This is the part of the shopping trip where I pick out what I want to see you in, what I'd like you to wear for me, other than that hot red dress. It's a very classy shop. Only the best for my lady. You'll like it."

They got out of the truck and went in. The store was bedecked in all manner of tasteful debauchery, from the erotic art on the walls, to the selections of oils, toys, condoms of every stripe and size, and the items that John brought her there for: sexy bras, garters, panties, and see-through teddies. She had no aversion to anything she saw in the boutique. As John said, it was a very classy place, indeed, and her eyes were caught by quite a few of the naughty items on display. She was just taken aback that he would be familiar with such a place, her close-to-the chest vigilante. It was proving to be quite interesting learning more about him and what made him tick outside of their working relationship.

He walked her over to the tables containing sheer push up bras. A navy blue number with a lacy trim grabbed his attention. "What's your cup size, Joss?" he said, abruptly as he picked up the bra and proceeded to fit it against her bosom, as if he were methodically dressing a model. "C, maybe?"

Joss rolled her eyes in mirth. "Yeah, you got it, John. 32C as a matter of fact. You know your cup sizes, huh?"

"More or less. Now, this one's too small. I love you spilling out and all, but it should fit comfortably. Here, why don't you try this one next to it on?"

Just then, a pretty dark haired clerk wearing all black and thigh high boots came over to them.

"Hey, John! Been a while since you been in here, was gettin' worried that I'd lost one of my good customers. But...I suppose I can see why you've been busy. Hi," she said, extending her hand to Joss. "I'm Sameen, the manager of this place. How can I be of service?"

Joss' suddenly felt a tad uncomfortable that John was indeed so familiar with this establishment, to the point where he was on name basis with the manager.

"Hi, Sameen, I'm Joss. I'm a friend of-"

"She's very special to me, Sameen. I wanted her to be able to get some nice things from you, from your shop. I think she'd enjoy the good quality, as I do."

"Oh, yes, well, you've come to the right place. Here, let me help you. This one's just the display model. I have the different sizes in back. We'll be right back, big guy. Watch the store for us, willya? Meg hasn't gotten here yet. Come on, Joss."

"Not a problem, Sameen. You two go ahead. I'll find other items for Joss while you're at it. From what I gathered at home, your panty tags put you at a 'medium.' All I need to know."

As John found more sexy undergarments for Joss, she headed to the fitting room with Sameen. The bra he picked out was very nice, but it wasn't something she'd necessarily get for herself. But if it fit, she'd get it. He wanted to see her in it, and since he was footing the bill, why not?

But it still niggled at her that he'd been there before. Joss had no choice but to entertain a possibility that, after the exchange of the day before, made her stomach lurch. It was more than likely certain that he'd come there to buy these things for Jenni in the past. He probably started coming there with her, which would explain Sameen's familiarity. She decided to, like the good cop she was, lightly interrogate Sameen, to confirm her suspicions.

"So, John is a fan of _Chameleon , _hmm? I can see why. How long have you known him to be a client?"

"Oh, just a few months. He's good about shelling out the cash when he has been here. But I'm actually surprised to see him with you, though, Joss. Last he was here was about six or seven weeks ago, and he had a blonde with him. I thought she was his girlfriend. A bit of a drama queen, if you ask me. But you seem cool. He works fast! How'd you meet?"

"John and I are old friends from New York. We used to work together. Long story."

"New York, huh? Oh, very hot! Well, from the way I saw him checkin' you out, girl, he's past the friends phase. And if he's buying you stuff to wear for him, I can just bet what he's got on his mind for tonight!"

In spite of herself, Joss grinned. "Yes, John can be...intense. Hmm, well, I better go try this on, because I know he had his eye on other items. Thanks, Sameen."

Joss went into the fitting room, and sat down on the velvety blue couch after shutting the door. After having her suspicions confirmed, she wasn't much in the mood now to try on the bra. In fact, she just sat there for several minutes with her eyes closed, shaking her head, and wondering why on earth John, after everything that had happened, would take her to a place with such intimate connotations, that was essentially Jenni's sloppy seconds. He couldn't possibly be that insensitive.

_Yes, yes he could, Joss. You're here, aren't you? In 'Jenni's place'? And you know how he is from working cases with him. Doesn't always think before acting-or if he does, he doesn't give a damn about the potential consequences if the plan fails. Here we go again._

_Damn, John, _she thought heatedly, sucking her teeth and shaking her head. _Just...damn._

##

Joss indulged John in his splurge of naughty with his purchase of the blue push up bra, a white lace teddy, thongs, black stockings, a garter belt, and for himself, more condoms. He offered to get a few toys, but Joss declined. She wondered if Jenni got the toy offer, and if he used them on her, all those months when he was using her to keep his dick wet. The very thought was enough to make her refuse.

Hell, maybe that was all he was doing with her, too. Fucking her until she left the following week, only to cut _her _out of his life this time. He said he wasn't leaving the state, so why the hell would that be so farfetched? The more she thought about it, the angrier it made her.

Their drive home was rather quiet. John could sense something had happened, but he didn't know if he should broach it with her or not until they got back to the cabin. He attempted small talk.

"I still have most of the cash left I brought with me. I'm going to have to teach you how to be a better spendthrift, Joss."

"Yeah, okay. Sure, John."

"Did you have a good day, honey?"

"Yeah. Great."

"You okay?"

"Yep. Fine. Just drive, will you?"

"Okay...just...driving. Aye, aye, cap'n," he sighed in exasperation

The next forty minutes passed by in silence. John was in the dark as to the reason for her switch in attitude-and it annoyed him. Dammit, if he did something, he wanted to know, so he could at least defend himself.

Finally, they pulled up to the cabin. After disembarking and popping the trunk, John gave Joss the door key to get them started. Soon, he followed, with all the parcels from the day's shopping.

"You, uh, you hungry?" he asked her after shutting the door.

"No. I'm fine."

John had had enough. "Dammit, Joss, what? What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I had a great day. Thank you. It's late. I think I'm gonna have a shower."

John smirked. "A shower, hmm? How about some company?"

"Nah, that's all right."

That was _not _what John wanted to hear, at all. He'd been hot for her all day, and had been hoping to see her put on something of what he'd bought for her earlier. And he knew that she wanted him, too-no matter what game she was playing at. But he'd let her go with it-to a point.

"Okay. Well, enjoy your shower."

##

When she had showered and dressed in a baby tee and shorts, she slowly came back downstairs and climbed into bed. John had actually done his toilet at the bathtub pump in back, so he was already in bed, naked, with the covers pulled back, so there was no mistaking his red hot need. He was stroking his dick, his eyes hooded and warm with desire as he followed her every move. Joss noticed his movements, his hardness, and in spite of her attitude, felt that familiar flush of desire between her legs.

John wasted no time in turning over to get atop her. With a groan, he captured her lips and pressed his dick against her mound, another helpless groan escaping his lips. Soon, his hands found their way under her tee, and his cupping and squeezing of her breasts had her moaning and arching her back. John continued his onslaught against her lips, his tongue taking advantage of the fact that her moans continued to escape her lips.

"Mmmmmm, does that feel good, honey? Such wonderful tits you have, Joss. More than enough for my hands. Beautiful." Then, "here, raise your arms up, love."

She did as he commanded, and he pulled her tee up and off over her head. The soft scent of body lotion on her smooth skin was intoxicating to his senses, and he held her wrists in the same place so as his dip his head and drink her nectar. He kissed and nibbled on her nipples, pinching and lapping them with his teeth and tongue. Joss' body writhed and twisted beneath him, her silent, breathless gasps mingled with John's, and he took her noise as a cue to move lower, be bolder.

As his fingers tugged at the waste band of her shorts, Joss began to slow down, stilling her body at the gates of passion. Coming down from the cliffs, she looked at his fingers as he pulled her shorts down, shimmying them off her until she was completely naked. Her thighs were spread wide, as John's big upper body was now in position for a taste of her juices.

She should have just let him do it. It would feel fantastic, as he knew just how to eat her pussy to send her to outer space and back more than twice. But she couldn't. It still bothered her.

"John?"

"Mmm hmmm?"

"Did you fuck her here? Did you fuck that blonde bitch in this bed?"

John's head rose slowly from what he was about to do and stared at her, directly into her eyes, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Letting go of a sigh and sitting on his haunches, he allowed his fingers to slowly tickle her belly. "Of course I did, Joss. We dated for months. Why, you jealous?" The twinkle in his eye only served to piss her off, and she wiggled out from under him and walked her naked body to the window.

"No, not jealous. She is of me, not me of her."

"She has every reason to be," he said, turning to face her from behind. "So what's going on, Joss? What's this about?"

"Why did you bring me there, John? _Chameleon_? Why did you take me there when that's Jenni's turf? When you took _her _there, and bought her sexy underwear not but a month before?"

John ran a hand through his hair and looked heavenward. That's what this was about. "I brought you there because it's a fine establishment with a great product. And because I wanted to get you some garments that I knew you'd look fantastically sexy in. That has nothing to do with Jenni."

"There was no other boutique, John? Did it have to be there? You say you didn't love her, that she meant nothing to you, but she's still here, John! Her words, her accusations, her _presence _is here. And then, after what that man said in the store...reminded me of yesterday all over again. I'm a tough broad in my line of work, John-but that shit hurts me, you know! And I want nothing to do with Jenni, nor anything having to do with her, including your damn push up bras!"

Joss had tears in her eyes now, her chest heaving. John listened quietly, his head hung in shame.

"And another thing: I'm not fucking you in that damn sofa bed, where you ate her pussy and made _her _come, too."

"Then we don't have to do it here, Joss. We can do it on the floor. We can do it against the wall, wherever. _So _long as we do it. Because we need it. Dammit, I need it. I have been deranged with hunger for you for months. _Months. _Every day, every night, not one went by when I didn't think about you, didn't ache for you. And God, I have you now and it's better than any fantasy, any dream I've ever dreamed. Please, Joss. I'm sorry. I didn't think..." He had gotten out of the bed and come up behind her, his voice shaky with desire and panic.

"No, you didn't. Didn't think about how your girlfriend is a racist scumbag-"

"-whom I promptly threw out of my house when she insulted you! You know that!"

"Yes, you did that. But how come you didn't know before? How could you be with someone like that? Oh, I know. Because you were too wrapped up in your own problems..."

John's voice was now raised. "Because it never came up, Joss! If you hadn't noticed, this area isn't that diverse, like Manhattan is. When Jenni and I did talk it was about her schooling, or her parents. Bullshit stuff. Her prejudiced views were never a factor. And besides, I think that's more a function of her being envious of you more than anything."

"Oh, man, you're making excuses for her now! I can't..." Joss picked up her clothing and moved towards the upstairs level, when John quickly following behind her, grabbed her by the arms and gently, yet firmly, pressed her body, face forward, against the door. His long lashes tickled her cheek as he leaned his face into hers, his hands softly caressing her belly and thighs.

"Joss Carter, listen to me! Listen to me, please...I have never, _ever '_made love' to Jenni. It _was_ just sex, just like I told you, I swear. She fulfilled my physical needs, she did. But you? It's so much more than that. I _make love_ to you! When I touch you, taste you, enter you, it's all in love, with _love. _I hadn't made love to a woman in years until you. Sex, yes. But not love. Except for you. _You,_ sweetheart. That's the honest truth. Please...don't do this. Please. Dammit, you know how I feel about you!"

Joss heard his desperation, felt his touch and warm breath on her skin, and her heart broke. Was he saying that he loved her? Right. But not enough to come back with her to New York. He wanted her to uproot her child and her career and live there, to encounter more people like Jenni, and the asshole at the mall. Such bullshit.

She broke away from him. With her clothing in hand, she opened the upper level door and left him there, calling after her, his pleas littered with swear words.

As Joss turned back the covers on the bed in the spare room, she brushed way the tears that had fallen from her eyes. Her body still longed for his, but she felt she had no choice. Maybe tomorrow would be a new day. But at that moment-

Suddenly, she heard the skip of heavy feet bounding up the stairwell, and by the time she had turned around, John had opened the door, come into the room, picked up her still naked body by her thighs, and slammed her into the wall, capturing her mouth in fury, in madness, in lust-in love. His hands and fingers, his tongue, his strong arms, all of them worked together to exert control over her, to coax the same madness from her body that now rendered him helpless with need. Her hands found his back, and she slid them up and down over the expanse, finally losing them in the scruff of hair at his neck.

He broke the kiss, and spoke in a ragged, husky voice. "I won't let you run away from me again, Joss. You don't want to do it on the sofa bed? Fine. But we are going to do it. Over and over again, sweetheart. We have to. You and I both know we do!"

Flouncing her on the bed, he was on her before she had time to protest. And Lord, in all honesty, she didn't want to. His hands and lips, feverish over her body, felt so good, so right. They could talk about the conflict later. Right now, she wanted him to do it to her, wanted him to unleash his passion inside her.

Tearing off the tab of a condom with his teeth, he rolled it on, spread her wide and plunged deep on the first go. She winced and whimpered at the initial pain, but by the next stroke, pain had turned into hot pleasure, each stroke hotter than the last. They both sucked in their breaths in short succession, as the sensations increased and Joss slowly lifted her legs in the **V **formation she now craved. John followed her lead, clutching her ankles and giving her the singular, tormenting thrusts she loved.

"I only want you...please don't ever doubt that...only, only you, baby...you hear me? Hmm? No Jenni...nobody but you, Jocelyn. My princess. My detective...mmmm...mmmm...oh...oh... oh, yeah.. oh, yeahhhhh...ahh, God..."

John's sexual power, punctuated now with a twist of his hips, sent liquid fire all over her body. He could make her feel like this, she realized, more than any other man she'd been with. And her orgasm exploded from her core like molten lava, spreading from her clit and G-spot, all the way up to her neck.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaahhhhoohhh...fuck! John...John...I...love you, John...I love you...ohhhhh..."

John's emptying released soon followed, his groans increasing in intensity at her declaration. He pulled her close, tightly holding her to his sweat-dampened chest.

"I love you, too, Jocelyn Carter. I love you, too. You are...everything I've ever wanted, even before I knew I wanted it. I love you," he said breathlessly.

The issue that had brought them to that bed wasn't fully resolved. They did need to talk. But, one thing, one very important thing could be settled right then and there, an issue that would go a long way towards solving the former. And it would be.

"John?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Please come back home with me," she said, still slightly breathless.

John sat up to remove the condom quickly. When he was done, he lie back down to face her, his hand stroking her face and hair. He paused before finally speaking.

"Do you really want me to, Joss? That's not just Finch talking, is it? Because if it is-"

"Yes. I really want you to. And no, it's not Finch talking."

He smiled a beaming smile, full of love and happiness. "In that case, I would be honored to go back to New York with you, sweetheart. Yes, yes, yes..." he said softly, but effusively.

"Oh, John! Oh, John!" she exclaimed. "Thank you! Thank you!"

They sealed their deal with a laugh, then a lingering kiss, before moving closer, beginning the dance of lovers anew. It would be well into dawn before they slept, as a gentle rain begain to fall softly on the cabin roof.

**A/N: Another walloper of a chap, in honor of the extra long weekend. John and Joss will be all right-at least I think so. Story ain't over yet, though, heheheh.**

**Here's hoping FFdotnet has all the bugs and kinks out this week! Crazy, huh? **

**Drop some lines, emails, I reads em all!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hi, guys. Hope everyone is doing well, this first coming week of Fall. I'm nursing a bit of a pre-season cold, but on the mend as we speak (but goodness, fevers suck, haha!). Here we are with our intrepid lovers, after their stormy-yet-sexy evening in John's guest room (which used to be his parents' bedroom when they stayed at the cabin. Let that one sink in, haha!). Some more heart-to-heart stuff (I love writing that for them; I think it's where my strength lies more than anywhere else with these two. Not sure why, but it's definitely there), some plans to make plans, and more. Thanks for reading, and have good ones, all!**

**We begin where we left off, ahem.**

"Mmmmmm...mmmm...aaaahhhh...umm-hmmm...yes..."

John's dream was wonderful. No turmoil surrounding Elias and Leila this time. Instead, all he saw, all he felt was Joss, his beautiful Joss, hovering over him. Her inky dark hair gently brushed his chest, tickling him, as she kissed her way lower and lower, until she reached his shaft, the member hot and throbbing in anticipation and eagerness.

The dream went on that way-until his eyes opened and he discovered it was no dream. Joss had awakened before him for a change, and her way of getting him to join her in the land of the conscious after the intense intimacy of the night before was no less stimulating, to say the least.

"Aaaaaahhh...Joss...mmmmm..." he murmured and groaned again, now alert in his arousal. He raised his half-sleepy head to see just what it was she was doing to him, before sinking back down into the pillows to give himself up to the fantastic sensations she elicited from his body.

"Good morning," Joss said between servicing him, her purr of seduction particularly enticing to his ears.

"Yes...yes, it is a good morning when you do that...damn, honey...mmm, don't stop...please...Jesus...fuck..."

Joss giggled and continued her sweet torture, enjoying the view of him writhing, shuddering, and wincing in pleasure at her touch and taste. He had managed to drive out of her mind with his mouth more than enough; now it was time to return the favor.

She gently pushed his thighs apart for better access. Lying flat on her belly, she rested her forearms at his groin area, and her hands on the bed, near his his hips. As she continued, John's response became louder, his body less still, and he lifted his legs to wrap them around Joss' back, trapping her in a gentle clasp of physical love. He completed the sensual prison by reaching down to clasp her head and tangle locks of her hair in his fingers, alternating between that and spreading his large hands across her back in caress.

The soft hissing sounds and heavy breathing continued further, and with each sound he made, Joss reveled in her womanly power. He was completely hers, under her control in any way she desired. It pleased her to be able to please him in this way, but the control was just as potent a drug. John was usually in control when they made love, his alpha tendencies, even more strident there in the cabin as they had been on the streets of New York, would allow little else. But then, since John's way was deliciously wonderful, she didn't mind so much, even enjoyed letting go.

However, Joss was also used to being in charge, and even with him, every once on a while, she'd need to exercise that command.

"You gettin' close, baby?" she murmured sweetly.

"Mmm-hmm...yeah...so close, honey. So close...oh, God, Joss..." he whimpered like a little boy. "I don't know what I did to deserve this...but whatever it was...you're welcome. Ohhhhhh, baby...ohhhh..."

Joss began to treat John's dick like an ice pop. Slowly, aurally, slurping him up and down and ending with her paying special attention to his painfully engorged tip, the exquisite torture soon had the poor man groaning profanities and words of love that seemed to bounce off the ceiling and windows of the tiny bedroom.

"Jaaawwwwssssss...fucking hell...oh, lady...lady, please...I need...I need to come...I need...now...yes...give me your mouth...give it...yeeah..."

But Joss wasn't quite ready to let John go just yet. She was having fun having the upper hand, and thought she'd just keep it for a little while longer. Feeling him about to lose complete control at that moment, she pulled her mouth away and stopped his explosion with a thumb over the tip of his member, now a deep shade of purple red.

"Um, um, uuuummm! Not yet, young man. I'm not done with you. Just lie back and relax."

When she was suitably satisfied that she'd slowed his orgasm, she moved back into position, with a seductive, yet wide-eyed smile on her face.

"You know, John, back in New York, I didn't know you had all this hiding under those suits when we were working together. If I had known-"

"If you had known, what?" he asked, lifting his head to look at her, with his trademark smirk.

"Hmmm, if I had known, I might have tried even harder to get you in handcuffs in the back of my car. Damn, boy...all this good dick...Mmmm..."

"That would have been fun, I'm thinking. You should have. I certainly wouldn't have stopped you. So, you like big John, yeah, Joss?" He grinned softly, mischievously.

"I love him. Every inch. He's so _strong_ and powerful. Especially when he gets like this."

John reached down to stroke her hair at his belly. "And it's all for you, baby. As long and as deep as you want it."

"Yes. And _ not _that heffa Jenni."

At that point, John took in a somewhat exasperated breath. He put his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "Dammit, Joss, will you stop thinking about Jenni? I'm sorry she insulted you so, sorry you had to put up with that because of me. But she's gone, baby. Out of my life for good. I have the woman I want right here. And that's all I want to know."

"I get that, John, I do, but still..."

"But still, nothing. Look, truth is, Jenni was here while I was waiting for you to somehow come back to me. I didn't exactly know that's what I was doing, but I was. Like I said...even here, even after months of estrangement, there wasn't a day or night...that I didn't think about you. Mmmm..." His voice trailed off into a moan as Joss began to slowly, deliciously stroke him with her slim fingers. " I told you...it's you, Joss. It's always been you. She..."

"She what?" Joss asked, as the pressure on his dick increased and he began to lose control again.

"She...oh, Jesus...oh...nevermind...ohhhh..."

"Yes, nevermind. You'll tell me later. Let me make you feel good, John. Just like you do me."

"Aaaaahhhh..." he groaned, breathlessly. "I'd feel even better if I could go inside you right now, sweetheart. I love every inch of _that."_

"Next time. I'm enjoying making you crazy."

"That you do, indeed. Please...take me back in your mouth, then, Joss."

Joss did as she was asked, and pretty soon, John was panting, groaning, and writhing, his mouth open, his belly heaving and his lower body gyrating to the overwhelming sensations her tongue elicited, until he begged her for release.

His plaintive words drove her, emboldening her to go further, until she felt his body stiffen, while the hot fluid spurt out of his dick into her mouth. The lusty, helpless groan rumbled out of him through clenched teeth, until he began to call her name like a mantra, and his spasms completely subsided. He spoke with mirth when he was finally able to find coherence.

"Wooooooo...that was...that was something else, lady! I'll never get out of bed again after that," he laughed, breathlessly. But added, in a more serious tone, "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you, too. But you will get out of bed. I'm hungry.. I'll give you about a half-minute get your brain cells right before you go and make us some breakfast, John. Come on. Get your ass up. Food! Hungry, hungry!" she exclaimed, playfully smacking him on the thigh.

John laughed again, pulling her gently up to his face for a kiss. "Are you, now? Well, you should be, after no supper last night, and what we were doing instead. But I think I can manage that. Pancakes?"

"Mmmm, yes. And I promise to eat every bite this time. I know I've been bad about that a little bit, especially at breakfast."

John wagged a forefinger at her. "I'll hold you to that, Joss Carter. Can't let you get too thin."

They kissed again, Joss' mouth still moist from John's body, with the kiss ending in a full, all-consuming embrace. They were going to be okay. Now that their love had been expressed, and now that John was going to come back to New York with her, there was nowhere to go in their relationship but up. She was ready for the adventure that life with John Reese promised to be.

##

The light rain that had fallen when they'd first drifted off to sleep at dawn had cleared, and a gloriously warm sun surrounded the cabin, providing more melting power to the snow that remained. While there was still quite a bit to go, more than enoygh had disappeared to reveal large tracts of grass and earthen mud hidden beneath.

John and Joss showered together before making breakfast. There was still some of the meal left from the chicken dinner from the other night, so Joss suggested cornbread pancakes, along with eggs, Canadian bacon, juice and coffee. John was soon busying himself with the meal preparation while Joss handled the place settings. Soon, all was ready, and platters of food, juice glasses, plates, cups, condiments, and silverware were all laid out on the table.

They sat down to eat, and Joss hadn't been kidding when she said she was hungry and that she'd eat all her food, a three-stack of pancakes and all. Every bite disappeared, and she even had a few extra slices of bacon. John was impressed-and pleased, because she actually didn't seem to eat enough for his liking. The woman could go on one meal a day, all day, a trick she probably picked up in the Army, as he had. He knew about that habit well; but he preferred not having to indulge it if he could help it, loss of appetite never having been a symptom of any depression he'd ever gone through. She was such a tiny thing as it was. No, that definitely wasn't a good habit to cultivate. He'd press her to eat from now on, now that they would be in each other's orbits again in New York.

New York. He'd hardly given it thought, what he'd agreed to do last night after they'd made love. But now, in the light of day, it hit him; He'd promised her that he would go back with her to the city that had at once saved his life and at the same time had been the scene of him essentially losing someone else's. Precious Leila. That sweet, sweet little baby, with the toothless smile that he'd betrayed, that he'd surrendered to evil. In the heat of passion, a man would offer his woman whatever she desired, due to his helplessness in the face of his own lust, his own overwhelming need to mate with her. But at the moment he sat across from Joss, watching her gleefully take seconds on breakfast, the realization of what he'd promised did indeed hit him. And it hit him hard.

And for the first time in several days, the image of that bottle of rum tucked away on his shelf flickered across his mind. It was fleeting, yes, but it was there, roused from slumber with this new development in his relationship with Joss.

He didn't want to go back there, back to that drunken state of hell. Jesus, no, he didn't. He had a chance, a real chance with Joss this time, and the best way to realize that chance, to reap the rapture that it would give him a million fold, was to return to the City with her, not sink back into the stupor of self-hatred and booze disguised as rustic solitude. He had done that with Jenni. He had done that _to _Jenni, and as firm as he was that she was out of his life forever, he continued to feel genuine regret for leading her on, for taking advantage of her feelings for him, just as he'd told the tearful young woman the night he broke things off with her. He wouldn't dare do that to Joss. No way. He'd succeed in putting that self-named bullet in his own head first.

She was right: She couldn't stay there and live with him, as much as he would like that, as good for her and her son as he still thought that could be. Taylor needed his grounding force and his familiarity, the 8th Precinct needed its best detective. Lord knew that Lionel probably needed his partner back like yesterday.

And now he allowed himself to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, Finch actually did need him back, too. Maybe that wouldn't be such a terrible thing in the end. After all, until the tragedy with Leila, they worked well together, complimented one another, their shared commitment to the numbers-and justice- a genuine bonding force. And hell, Harold helped keep him grounded, too. One of the reasons it had been so easy for him to turn to drink in Colorado was because he didn't have that nasally voice in the back of his mind telling him how much of a fool he was being. It made a tremendous difference.

But he he was steadfast on one point: He wasn't doing this because Harold wanted him to. Which of course, is what he banked on in sending Joss after him. He knew. Harold well understood that Joss was John's Achilles heel, and that even if he had been bullheaded with her, even if he could put her off, or ignore her protests against his behavior, in the end, he'd do anything for her. Any damn thing she wanted or needed, he would be there. All that had to happen was for him to see her again, to be under her spell long enough to make him bend, to sap him of that particular strain of his stubbornness.

Even if it caused him untold suffering.

Joss noticed how quiet he had become, and sensed something troubling him. Their breakfast plates now resembling the aftermath of an epic battle, Joss slowly snaked out a hand and covered one of his with it. He in turn sighed and took it, tightly squeezing it, before putting it to his lips to gently, lingeringly kiss it.

Now she knew something was up. "John? Baby, what's wrong? she asked softly. " You okay? If you're at all worried about breakfast, don't be. It was delicious, as usual. And look! I ate it all, see?" She attempted a bit of levity, hoping that, whatever it was, it wasn't something she couldn't help him with. How could he be down, after the amazing breakthrough they'd had? After the fierce love they'd given each other just hours before?

He did crack a smirk as he glanced at her plate, but the glumness remained in his silence, and he continued to hold her small, brown hand against his cheek, as if he were trying to transfer her warmth to himself.

"Joss," he said, "We should talk, sweetheart. I'm going to break my own rule here, but it's for a good reason."

"Oh?" she said, her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What rule is that?" When he remained silent, cryptic almost, Joss continued, "John, come on, you're scaring me..."

"Actually, I have to clear the air a little, and some of that air involves Jenni. See? Breaking the rule."

"Ahh, okay...well, break away, then. So long as you aren't going to tell me you want her back-"

"No, no, no nothing like that, Joss," he said, shaking his head earnestly. "Even if I weren't out of my mind in love with you, I couldn't knowingly be with someone who would do what she did, who had those kinds of opinions. No worries there, baby. You're stuck with me, remember?" He smiled sheepishly.

"Okay. So you aren't getting back with her. I had a feeling you weren't but I just needed to confirm as much, you see. So then, what are we talking about, John?"

John ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, and took a shaky breath. "Where to begin, where to begin..."

"The beginning works, John."

"I can begin at the other day, when you first spoke to Jenni, on my phone. Remember you mentioned how she heard about you, knew about you?"

"Yes. She said...that you'd been having dreams about me...calling out for me in your sleep. She heard you say my name."

"Yeah," he said, hesitantly. "That's right. But the dreams weren't only about you. They were about Leila. And Elias. And how I lost her to him. And you. How I lost you, lost our chance, because of your disappointment in me. They were nightmares, Joss. They _are _nightmares. Vivid, rage-inducing nightmares where I am helpless, _helpless, _to stop anything that happens in them. Last time I had one was the morning of the day you arrived in Golden."

That day had been a tumultuous one for sure, and she almost couldn't believe that they were at this point, considering where they had come from-a drunken tussle in the blowing snow where she'd seen a side of him she never had before.

"Part of my reaction to seeing you at the Squarehouse that night had to do with that dream I had. That was the day Jenni confronted me about what she'd heard. We had a fight, I got angry, she stormed off. So my answer to that, as it had been when I just got fed up with it all, when I really didn't want to give a fuck, was to go and get stinkin' drunk. I did that quite a bit. It helps when your family friend owns a bar."

"Ah, I see. And me showing up out of nowhere, the subject of your dreams, in part, the last person you expected to see, must have been like the nightmare come true." Joss hung her head low. "I'm sorry, John."

"Hey, no, no," he cooed gently. "Sorry for what, sweetie? You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one. I deserved the punches I got that night-just like I deserved what you said to me that day in the park. You were right. I screwed up. And look at the cost. In the end, the person I have always been angriest with, even over that bastard Elias, is me, Joss. Me. I always will be."

Joss felt her eyes fill with tears, but she didn't shed them. This guilt was eating a hole in his heart, his soul, and it broke her heart to see the depths of his despair. He'd lived with this pain every day for the better part of a year, and despite the beauty and peace of this place he now called home, he was in just as much turmoil as he had been the day he'd left her sitting alone in the cold in Washington Square Park. It was just that there he could hide it better, could slip away into the ether with none of the people he'd run away from knowing the wiser.

But he was wrong there. She would have known if he'd left this world, would have felt him go. They had a connection, even before now, that went beyond the numbers, beyond the streets. It was then that she was reminded of her own dreams of John, the dreams where he loved her. The dreams where he beckoned her with smiles and sweet words. The dreams that saw him so clearly, so vividly that she'd reach out to touch him-only to wake up in the darkness, clutching empty air.

She decided to let him know as much.

"John, I have a confession to make."

"Oh, what's that, Joss?"

"I...uh...had them, too. About you, almost every night, or whenever I could grab a few hours after a shift. Dreams about your smile, your face. I used to see you, so clearly, hear you, that I put my whole self into reaching out for you. I wanted to hold you so much, just wanted to feel you so badly my heart ached. And in my dreams I thought I could. But then, I'd reach too far...and I'd wake up. It was so difficult, John. So difficult to let you go."

"Joss," he sighed, his own eyes watering with tears. "How much time we've wasted, sweetheart. Had I known you felt so strongly about me, I'd have never left New York. Not in a million years. I'd have stayed to see Elias get what he deserved. And I would have given it to him-because I'd have known you were with me. I would have fought any challengers for you, any enemies you had, whatever I had to do to have you, be worthy of you. And like I told you the other night, I still would. You, Sam, and my damn dog are the only things in this world that I love-and of those three things, you are number one amongst them."

John stood up and walked over to lean against the fireplace. Because of the warm weather, he hadn't needed to light the flames, but he gazed into it as if the they still exerted hypnotic power over him.

"I promised you I'd come home with you, baby," he said, "and I meant that. I don't want to be where you aren't. Not anymore. But...I wanted you to understand where I've been with this, just a little bit, so you know what you're dealing with gettin' mixed up with me again. The truth is, Joss, that facing all that shit again scares me to death. And because of that-"

"What, John? Because of what?" Joss had walked up behind him at the fireplace.

John wordlessly moved away from the fireplace and went over to the kitchen. Reaching behind a few parcels of foodstuffs, he pulled out the large bottle of Puerto Rican rum and held it in front of her. His eyes were wetter now, but he, too, did not shed the tears they were indicative of.

"I really, really want some of this right now. In fact, I could drink all of it right here, in a matter of about forty-five minutes, along with the two six packs of stout tucked in the sink cupboard. And then, after I did that, I'd turn into someone you wouldn't recognize, wouldn't want to be around at all. You know something? I didn't drink in front of Jenni. She knew I did it, tried to get me to talk to someone about it, even-but I never did it in front of her. That's why we only saw each other on my terms. I wanted the freedom to get wasted when I needed it to happen, which was often, at least twice a week. She'd have interferred with that. I was insistent. It was either that or nothing. She chose the former over the latter." His lips pursed into a frown, and she could see the struggle of that moment attack him.

"I want some of it-but I don't want to be that guy who feels like he needs it anymore in order to cope. These past few days here, with you, I haven't felt that urge, not even at dinner in Denver, with the Merlot. But now-"

"But now, we'll be back in the real world, John. And the real world is scary. Terrible things happen. You know how much death I've seen in my job. Maybe some day it will all be too much for me, and it'll burn me out. Yes, it's a lot. Some days it can bring you to your lowest point and you don't know where you will find the strength to give it anymore than you have. But me, I keep at it. You know why? Because for all those that I can't save, there's somebody I can. That's true for you, too, John. I know losing Leila breaks your heart. It does mine too. But think about all those others, countless folks whom you've helped give a second chance to-including me. They're here because _you_ were there for them. And because you're a good man, John. It's time you started remembering that. Because I've never forgotten how good you are." She slowly took the bottle from him and walked over to the sink . "Far too good for the likes of this."

She unscrewed the cap, tilted the bottle, and poured the sweet brownish liquid down the drain until it was all gone. She then found the six packs under the sink, and at that John quickly moved to join her, popping all the tabs and pouring out the stout until it, too, was all gone. The empty containers went into the recycling bin.

The lovers looked at one another for several seconds before falling into each others arms, those captive tears finally released for both of them. In fact, John, his inner dam now broken, began to openly sob in Joss' embrace, her soft, soothing endearments the safe harbor in the storm he needed.

"We're gonna be okay, John. You'll see. I'm with you. You're with me. From now on, we're not alone."

"Sweetheart...sweetheart...promise me, Joss..." he murmured between sobs.

"I promise, John. I promise."

##

The rest of their day saw them take a walk through the melting meadow, hand-in-hand, their communing with nature planting the seed of an idea in John's mind about how they could spend their last in Colorado together. After their walk, they checked in with Sam to pick up Bear, the husky eager to leap and nuzzle with both of them after only a day away. Sam offered dinner, which they took him up on, and he nearly danced a jig when John told him that he was indeed going back home with Joss. Not that he was trying to get rid of him or anything, but John gettin' his ass outta Golden was long overdue.

They stayed at the Squarehouse until late. Upon returning to the cabin, Joss expressed an interest in taking a bath. John was more than happy to oblige her, and, after running the warm water from the pump, and lighting candles, he joined her in its confines. It was a fairly big tub, with plenty of room for two. John washed Joss' hair and she washed his back. Meanwhile, Bear had been content to find his spot in front of the fireplace, even if it hadn't been lit, for his usual snooze.

When the bath was done, they lovingly dried one another off. John then let Joss' towel drop to the floor, and he picked her up to lie her down on the sofa bed. She didn't protest this time, allowing him to gently apply and massage cocoa butter all over her body. By the time he was finished, they were both desperate for one another again, desire unhidden, undeniable.

John reached over for the box of condoms on the nightstand, so they'd be within reach when the time came, which would be soon enough. He didn't want to put her in an impossible situation, especially this early in their newly sexual relationship. But it was then, that Joss stopped him, her eyes seductive, her lips curved into a smile.

"We don't need that, John."

"But honey, I should protect you. I could make you pregnant. I would love to make you pregnant with my baby, but, it's so soon..."

"After I had Taylor, my cycle was a little weird for a few years, so I've been on the pill for a while now. Forgot to tell you."

"No barriers, then? Nothing between us?"

"No. All natural, baby. No condom. Like the first time."

John groaned in satisfaction at those words, and kissed her. He then rolled over on his back so that Joss was straddling him. She, in turn, already hot, already wet, spread herself open and impaled herself on his shaft. She gasped and then moaned at the sensation. As he joined in with his own thrusts, Joss' moans turned guttural, her damp hair whipped about her head as the ecstasy took her higher and higher, until she exploded in climax, a million pieces of light her body became. John wasn't far behind her, and upon his own release, he pulled himself to a sitting position, to cradle himself against her breasts, his hand slipping into her damp hair, his eyes closed in the face of such soothing succor.

They were at home. Whether in Colorado, New York, wherever they were, so long as they had their love, their passion, so long as they had each other, they were home.

**A/N: Awwwww, I want a girlfriend like Joss. John's such a lucky man. And he was good to level with her. She needed to know that stuff. Much more honest with her than than Jenni, that's for sure. Well, there is still a good week left-and much can happen in a week. Next up, Joss gets to see more of her surroundings. She is on vacay, after all! **

**Thanks for reading guys. Hope this finds you well, and take care!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: John and Joss' bond continues to deepen. We begin with a cross-country phone call to get Chap 17 events underway. Enjoy, all!**

"Good morning, Finch."

"Why...why, Mr. Reese? Is that you?"

John smirked to himself. "You know damn well it's me, Harold. And you know why I'm calling."

There was a slight pause, a loaded pause, before Finch spoke again. "Do I really, Mr. Reese? After our last chat I would have thought I'd never, much to my dismay, hear from you again."

"Ah, yes, but of course you do, Finch. You set this all up to happen, and so, it has. I'm still not sure that I like the idea of you using Joss to get to me-but all the same, your plan worked. Congrats-and thank you. I'll be back with Joss when she arrives back in New York."

"Excellent, excellent news, Mr. Reese!" John smiled. He didn't think he'd ever heard Finch sound so elated over anything before. He suspected that, if the bespectacled genuis could pull it off, he'd have leaped through the phone line and danced the cha-cha at his news.

He had to admit it was nice to be missed.

"I'm glad to have made your day, Finch. Actually, the real reasons I'm calling are to allow you to clone this phone to reestablish a connection between us-which I'm sure you've already done-and to ask you when, exactly, Joss' flight leaves for New York. I'd like to try and book something on the same flight, or one that leaves on the same day, if possible."

"I don't understand, Mr. Reese. Can't you just ask Detective Carter? And yes, I've cloned the phone. Old habits, John."

"Of course, Harold. Nothing less than I would've expected from you. Detective Carter is sleeping just now. Didn't want to wake her. And besides, maybe I just wanted a chance to talk to you again, after so many months, too. I hope that isn't a problem, Harold. As you implied, our last conversation was rather...definitive. I can spare you a bit more attention than that now."

"Absolutely not an issue, Mr. Reese. I was...disappointed, indeed, when you said you wouldn't consider coming back to New York. But I am certainly glad that Detective Carter was able to change your mind. I look forward to seeing you both when you return. And the city needs you, John."

"Hang on, Finch. That's not why I'm coming back," John said firmly. "I meant it when I said I was done with our work. Joss and I are in love, and we're going to try and make this love work-but that's where my focus is. You'll have to get someone else for the numbers."

Harold sighed deeply, gravenly over the phone. "John...we were able to make a real difference with The Machine. People's lives have been saved that otherwise wouldn't have. Surely that still means something to you."

"Yes, Harold, many people's lives were saved through our efforts-including Carl Elias'. Remember, The Machine gave us his number, too. And I kept him alive when I shoulda just let Yogorov and his boys take him out when they had the chance. And that, my friend, was my biggest mistake. A mistake I will regret for the rest of my life. No more playing God, Harold. It doesn't work for the likes of you and me. The _only_ reason I'm coming back is because of Joss and her love, her belief in me. Anything else, nothing doing."

He stopped short to add, "but...I do hope that you and I can take up a ballgame or something one of these days. Maybe a couple rounds of bridge? I think I'd like that-if you would."

Harold grinned. If John was insistent, then so be it. At least he was coming home. For that, for the well-being of the closest thing he had to a best friend, he was indeed elated. The rest would work itself out.

"You'll need to make a living, John. While I'm sure what I paid you has lasted for a substantial amount of time thus far, at some point a revenue stream will indeed be a necessity once again-particularly if you're now involved in a relationship with Detective Carter. Even independent women such as she is can be...expensive."

John thought back to their shopping trip. Hell, if only she _would _have spent more of his money. "Ah, I've got that covered, I think, Finch. But thank you for the advice."

"Well, what will you do for a job, John? You aren't exactly the sit-at-home-and-knit type. Have you considered that at all?"

"No, not really, as I only just officially agreed to it last night. But I'm always in the market for private security, as there are plenty of bigwigs in the market for the kind of services I can provide. And this way, I get to have something of a routine in my life. I want that for Joss and me. But again, I don't know, as I said. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"No guarantees on that in private security, either, John, depending on who's getting that private security, and what it's worth to them. Well," sighed Harold, "that's all good and proper, Mr. Reese, but perhaps I might have another proposal you'd be interested in, instead. One that involves the work we've done, but that doesn't put you directly in the crosshairs."

John raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I'm listening."

"When you went away, John, neither The Machine nor myself were in much of a position to act on behalf of the city. Crimes and unanswerable threats were occuring all over New York, and a saturation took place. Even if The Machine had been fully functional, your skills were not available to us. You can ask Detective Carter, as she would have been affected by that same saturation, in addition to being near powerless in the face of HR."

"Mmmhmm, we've talked a little about that. The feds have something of something of a good case to build, but it's still a slog because so many tentacles have their grip around the NYPD that if you cut off one, the others remain, more entrenched than before. And no one's willing to rat out the others to blow the whole thing up. Cop code of honor and all that bullshit. No, more like the cashflow and the perks are too sweet. But, go on, Finch."

"Indeed, Mr. Reese. The destruction of HR won't be an easy task. However, once I dispatched Detective Carter to locate you, suddenly The Machine began giving us numbers again. And there had to be at least an attempt to answer them."

"Right. So, how are you doing that, Harold?"

"I have enlisted the assistance of Detective Fusco on a much more dependent basis than I ever thought possible. Essentially, he's been your...replacement, John."

John bit back the urge to laugh at what he was hearing. Of all the cockamamie notions, this was one of the best he'd come across in a long time. "Really, Harold? You've got Lionel working the numbers, solo? God, now I've heard everything."

"He's actually been rather effective. With his direct connections to the NYPD database, as well as his ear on the street, Detective Fusco has the kind of access that we didn't always-and that you had to strong arm him for."

"Well, there you go. Fusco gets to do my job while I live my life with Joss and Taylor. Problem solved, right?"

"Well, not exactly, Mr. Reese. While Detective Fusco does bring his very own special skill set to our endeavors, he is lacking in other areas-particularly in matters of the kind you would be expert at with your military and CIA backgrounds. I propose that you, John, act as something of a consultant to Detective Fusco as he continues in this role, at least until such time as I can vet other recruits to join the team."

"Wait, Harold...does Lionel know about The Machine? Exactly how far does his involvement go beyond where it was when I was still there?" Suddenly, John was concerned for his friend and former asset. If he had that knowledge, and if he still operated with one foot in the 8th, as Joss said he did, his life, his son's life, could be in grave danger a thousand times over. Even speaking of it now, in the cabin, within a sleeping Joss' earshot, made him nervous.

"No, Mr. Reese. He doesn't. Letting Detective Fusco in on The Machine and its existence would be just as dangerous for him as ever. And I don't encourage any kind of pursuit of HR in his present capacity. His interest is strictly limited to the random numbers I provide him. That keeps him more than busy."

John breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. That's very good. The less he continues to know, the better for him."

"Of course, John. So, what do you think? Something you might be interested in?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe Lionel wouldn't appreciate any help from me. It is his moment in the hero game now, after all."

"I happen to know, on good authority, that Detective Fusco would welcome a renewed relationship with you, Mr. Reese. He's missed you...as we all have."

Joss had mentioned Lionel's wistfulness where he was concerned as well, and he still found it hard to believe.

John let go of a warm chuckle. "Be that as it may, I wouldn't want to steal his thunder. Let me talk to him first."

"That should be fine , Mr. Reese. Now that I have a lock on your phone, I can transfer you his number, which you may use at your convenience, of course. I'm sure you wouldn't remember it at this point in time."

Yes, I do, Harold. Wouldn't have been much use as a spy without a good memory. I'll get in touch with him soon." And in a lower voice, "I'd better table this for another time, Harold. Joss is stirring. Listen, I'll be in touch with you, too. Thanks for the chat. Thanks for everything. Really."

Harold swallowed down the lump that he could feel rising in his throat before he spoke. "Thank _you, _John. It's...it's been most rewarding to know that you-and Detective Carter-are all right."

"Yep. You, too, Harold. Take good care of yourself until I get back."

"I will most certainly do that. Again, I look forward to seeing you again. Good-bye, John."

John disconnected the call and smiled when he felt a warm female body wrap itself around his naked back. Joss was fully awake now, and she greeted him with a kiss on his cheek, which he extended into a full-fledged kiss instead.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he whispered.

"Good morning," she replied stifling a yawn. "Man, it's gonna be tough going back to work and giving up these lazy lie-ins. I'd forgotten just how much I liked to sleep until I came out here to you. Ohhhh..."

"We'll make a point to make sure you're still able to do that, despite the work of policing. That is my solemn vow. Scouts' honor and all."

"Hmm, I'll hold you to that. Who were you on the phone with?"

John chuckled. "Always the interrogator, huh?"

"Well, I'm good at at it, so why not? Who?"

"Would you believe Finch?"

"Finch?" Joss asked in mild surprise. "What did he want? Is Taylor okay?"

"No, no, Taylor's fine. I called him."

"_You _called Harold? But why? In the market for your old job? Thought you were through being _The Man in the Suit."_

"I am. But, I wanted a chance to tell him scheme worked. And that, in so many words, I was grateful for him hatching it all up, even if I still have a reservation or two as to how he went about it."

"Yes, I hear that. I almost didn't do it. Like you said, it wasn't my idea to come here. But you were too irresistible for me not to try, once Harold put the idea in my mind."

John laughed softly and scratched the back of his head, a hint of warm blush spreading across his face. It was effortless, her ability to make him blush. After everything he'd been through in life, he'd have thought himself long too jaded for such a reaction. His wonderful, wonderful lady. She was everything he could've wanted in a woman: smart, beautiful, sexy, sensitive, compassionate, down-to-earth, funny, and loyal. She was a great cop, a fantastic mother, a fabulous dancer, and his very best friend. Yes, he owed Finch big time for convincing her to find him. But that brought back the memory of their initial reunion. His blush of joy was now turned into one of shame for how he'd treated her. He was just so damn glad she never held that shameful, brutish behavior against him.

That was the other thing he loved about Joss: her capacity to forgive. She'd forgiven him the Squarehouse incident, but more importantly, had forgiven him his mistake with Leila. It amazed him, that ability, since he still couldn't find a way to forgive himself. She was a rare and special woman, indeed, and he knew he was ridiculously lucky to have her in his life.

"Irresistible, huh? Well, that's never been a term I've heard in relation to me before. 'Stubborn', 'dangerous,' 'moody,' 'deranged,' even-but never 'irresistible.'"

"There's always a first time for everything. So what else did you and Finch talk about?"

With a light groan, John scooted down on the bed to lie on his belly. Joss took the ride with him, still attached to his back, her chin perched atop his head.

John allowed the laugh he'd stifled when talking to Harold earlier to bubble to the surface. "Well, it would appear that someone has been hired to replace me with the numbers, Joss."

"Really? Who?"

"Would you believe Lionel, of all people?"

Joss hopped off John's back and landed beside him, stunned at the news. "What?"

"Mmhmm. In my absence, Harold's got Lionel sporadically working the numbers. Apparently, he's doing a good turn thus far, though he's still got a lot to learn when it comes to the more sophisticated aspects of the job. Did you know anything about this?" he asked.

Joss shook her head bewilderedly. "No. No, I didn't. When I talked to Finch before coming out here, he told me that he'd about as much dropped out of the business as you had. He really took it hard, your leaving, John."

"So he keeps telling me, in so many words," he replied.

"But then again, that would explain how Harold was able to be in place to set up that meeting we had, where he practically begged me to come after you. I figured out that Fusco had something to do with it when he sent me on a ruse to Marl's Deli for lunch. I'm standing in line waiting for cheeseburgers, next thing I know, there's Harold."

"Hmm, not very sophisticated. Really must have been out of sorts to be so amateurish. I would have just waited till you were headed to your car in the lot after your shift was done, drugged you, tied you up, and then asked you to come look for me when you woke up, in a secure, untraceable location. Simple."

Joss laughed. "It's a good thing you weren't involved then! Monster..."

"I might have just opted for the part where I tie you up, maybe. In fact, hmmmm, that sounds pretty hot right about now. Now, where the hell did I put that old clothesline rope?"

"John Reese, don't you dare!"

John didn't say anything, but the glint in his eye let Joss know that he was tucking his kinky fantasy away for future reference. He was crazy-but she loved every minute of it.

"Anyway, you damn pervert, what about you and Fusco when we get back home? How's that going to work? That is your turf, John."

"Not anymore, it isn't. You and Taylor are my 'turf' now. But Harold did make a suggestion I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he wants me to act as something of a mentor to Lionel, as he continues to take on the numbers. I'm not exactly sure what tutoring Lionel would involve, but it might be worth it to see if I can help keep him out of trouble. To keep him from making...mistakes."

Joss knew where he was headed with that thought. But she didn't want him to travel down that road. It was a new morning. They had talked out his fears last night before they made love over and over again, each one of them simply insatiable for the other, until they finally fell asleep, a peace and contentment coming over her that Joss hadn't known with any other man, including Taylor's father. She wanted that for John, too. While she knew it wouldn't be easy, she wanted to do her best to soothe his pain as much as she could from then on.

"I'm sure Fusco can handle himself-but I know he'd love the idea of collaborating with you, especially without you breathing down his neck like before."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Joss. How else would I have any fun if I didn't needle Lionel?"

It was then that John remembered his idea from the day before. "Speaking of fun, we still have a little over a week before heading home. Have you given any thought to how you want to spend that time?"

Joss wrinkled her nose with indecision. "So long as I'm with you, I don't care. We can just hang out here and relax some more."

"Hmm, that's very sweet, and very possible, but I have an even better idea. How about we go away for a few days?" As he spoke, he lovingly began to stroke tendrils of her hair from her face.

"Go away? Where to, John?"

"Well, sweetie, now that the snow is really melting now, I figured it'd be good for you to see that there's more to Colorado, more to this region, than Golden. We could pack up my truck with gear and I could take you on a little adventure. Rocky Mountain National Park, then a swing over to Utah for canyon walking, maybe upwards into Salt Lake City. Do a little horseback riding, a little fishing, swimming, camping, hiking. We'd bring Bear with us too. How's that sound?"

Joss wasn't sure. She was keen to see more, but horseback riding? She was a city girl; the closest she'd ever been to a horse was dodging their poop from the buggy rides after a walk through Central Park. Fishing she could deal with just fine though.

"I've never ridden a horse, John."

He waved her concern away. "Ah, it's easy. You'd get the hang of it soon enough. Like riding a bike."

"It took me forever to learn how to ride a bike."

"Well, you didn't have me for a teacher," he smirked. Really, you'd be fine. There are plenty of horse farms, stables, in the state with beginner lessons, so it'd be great for you. And I'd be mounted up right along with you. It's wonderful, Joss, riding through the meadows and hills on a horse. Freedom for a freedom-loving woman. I think you'd enjoy it. I think you'd love every bit of it. Come on, what do you say?"

Despite her equestrian apprehensions, Joss could feel the excitement bubbling inside her. She'd actually get to experience the majestic beauty of the West as it stood in real time, instead of just reading about it books or watching, absent-mindedly, documentaries on the subject.

Bar none, this would go down as the best vacation she'd ever been on, and she had John to thank for it.

"I say...giddyap, pardner. When do we leave?"

John laughed in pleasure, before pulling her into his arms for a kiss. "Well, all right, baby! We'd better get out of bed, then. Tomorrow is Sunday. There's much to prepare for, if we want to be ready for an early Tuesday start."

Joss kissed him slowly, gently, before sliding her slender arms over his back, and pressing her breasts into his ribs.

"Mmmm, not just yet, cowboy. Not just yet."

##

John was satisfied with the shopping and supply list he'd made after breakfast and, after getting Bear out for his morning walk, the three of them piled into the truck and headed into town to visit a number of shops open for business on Sunday, in particular Grant's Sporting Goods, his favorite destination for all outdoor equipment needs. For the most part, this trek was for Joss, as he had his gear squared away already, frequent outdoorsman that he was. Some things he was able to supply Joss with from his equipment at home, like an extra large knapsack for hiking, but she lacked other items specifically for her use that he didn't have. She needed waders for lake fishing, for example, and her packed boots from home weren't sufficient for where they'd be going.

As usual, she initially protested his spending money on her, but he insisted. It was his idea, he told her, so he should see to it that she was well-fortified for a natural adventure. Joss let him have his way, again, since, deep down, she actually liked John spoiling her. And he had a point. It _was _his idea. But when they got back to New York, no more spoilage, she thought.

Before Grant's, however, they stopped at the boot shop to get Joss fitted for some proper riding boots and a light leather riding jacket. John could see that she was getting used to the idea of going riding as she got her bearings in the boots, and he was pleased. At least she was willing to try, and that was what counted, in his book.

As they approached Grant's Sporting Goods, John could see that it wasn't very crowded, and that was all he could've hoped for. It would mean getting them in and out in a goodly amount of time, as there were still cottage reservations and campground rentals to book at home. While the peak season was still a month away, he was taking a bit of a chance in booking a place for them at such short notice.

Of course, his idea of "the outdoors" was much more close to the ground than staying in cottages and organized camping spaces would allow for. He could very easily rough it out in the middle of nowhere, his only means of food being whatever he canned or shot, skinned and cooked over a spit, his only means of cleanliness and drinking water a stream or brook he scouted out after days of foraging through the wilderness.

But Joss wouldn't go for that. He knew his detective needed at least a small degree of creature comfort to exist in a setting unlike what she was used to each day. And her Army days in Afghanistan and Iraq were years behind her. He'd do what he could to ensure her a good time while getting her back to the land in some way, after decades of the concrete and grime of New York.

When they went in, they were immediately greeted by "Don," a middle-aged man with a nametag, who informed them he was the manager of the establishment. Don was rather pleasant, and assured them that they had indeed come to the right place for their needs.

But then, Don did something that caused both John and Joss' stomachs to drop to their knees. The color actually drained away in John's face, and he looked at Joss with an expressive mix of guilt, slight panic, and embarrassment on his face.

"Oh, God, Joss," he whispered. "I'm sorry...I had no idea, I swear to you. Last I knew, she was still waitressing at the diner. Please believe me." In a gesture of compromise, John hastily offered, "look, we don't have to do this here. We can go somewhere else if you want. Just say the word, okay?"

"No, John, it's okay. We're here," she whispered back. "This is a small town, she's a part of the town, and she has to make a living. Besides," she continued, squeezing his hand and gently raking her nails across his wrist, "you're coming home with me. That's all that matters."

Joss said nothing further in response as Don called over the sales assistant, holding her folded hands in front of her middle.

"Folks, this is Jennifer, and she will be serving you today. Any questions you may have about our products and services, she'll be happy to answer them for you. Jennifer?"

"Yes, Don. Thanks." And in turning her attention back to John and Joss, "is there something in particular I can help you with?" Her tone was unmistakably hostile, though even-keeled.

John's instinct filled him with pang of cautious dread. He wasn't worried for himself, as he could handle Jenni and her drama if he needed to. However, he did have a concern for Joss, and her feelings. If they stayed and Jenni made another crass comment directed at her like she did the other night, he _would_ be responsible for whatever bad thing happened to his former girlfriend. He was absolutely dead square about that. And while he knew that Joss was more than capable of handling her business, he would save her that trouble.

"Joss, again, if you'd prefer, we can go to another sporting goods store. There are others that are available to us," he said sternly.

"John, it's okay. Jenni is doing her job. She can do that."

"Jenni, when did you start working here?" he asked.

Jennifer turned up her nose slightly and pursed her lips into a pout. "I got hired here just before the storm hit. Had you been paying more attention to _me_, you'd have known that, John. But I guess you were otherwise occupied with...your cop." Her pale blue eyes gave Joss the once-over, and the hostility embedded within them might have made a lesser woman cower. But Joss was not a lesser woman. In response to Jenni's affront, she cocked an eyebrow, hooked her thumbs in her jeans pockets, pushed her chest out, and began to strut around the area near the kayaks, effectively dismissing the younger woman's fit of pique as she did so. "So, John, why don't we help Jennifer here earn that commission that every sales clerk angles for in this line of work, hmm? We're looking for some camping gear and other supplies. Show us what you got, honey. _Now. _And lose the sour face while you're at it."

Jenni looked at her former lover, as handsome and as virile as ever in his dark jeans, peacoat and hunting cap, and then at the woman who'd replaced her in his life, a woman full of the most inappropriate attitude and haughtiess, and a form of rage she had never known gripped hold of her heart. It was hot and tentacled, and it threatened to choke her with its intensity at that very moment. _Who does this black bitch think she is? The Queen of the Nile? Unbelievable. Just fucking unbelievable. And how in the hell could a man like John want someone like that instead of a wholesome, all-American girl like herself?_

She would have given anything to strike her, to wipe that smart aleck expression off her face-but she needed her job. Tuition was going up at school the next semester, and her scholarship wasn't a sure thing. And her parents wouldn't pay, so she couldn't go there. They considered it an act of the utmost charity just to let their daughter live at home while she went to classes. She hated retail-at no time more than then-but the diner alone didn't cut it anymore.

Yes, she wanted to strike. But Joss Carter was a cop, and that would only be asking for trouble, even if out of her jurisdiction. Then, there was the desire not to have John throttle her for even trying. So she kept a lid on that rage as best she could, in order to perform her duties.

"Right this way," she said, turning, her back stiff, her long blonde ponytail swinging down said back.

"Service with a smile, sweetie," Joss sang behind her. She gave a quick glance towards John, and shrugged her shoulders.

Joss humourously took bets in her head on just what foul names the girl was probably calling her under her breath. She didn't care, though. This Jenni was nothing but a jealous witch, mad because John was unapologetically in love with her, a little black female homicide detective from New York. She hadn't wronged this child ever, save for the fact that she simply existed, and that John loved her.

He may have felt pangs of guilt for leading her on, for possibly hurting her- but Joss didn't. Screw the racist little bitch. Nobody had time for that shit, least of all her. She was a grown woman who knew what-and got what-she wanted. And that was John Reese. And _Jenni _just had to deal with it.

Just let her say something else.

John silently followed the women towards the fishing rods, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. In an effort to maintain peace, he would do what he could to procure the items they needed with minimal input from Jenni. He knew what he was looking for better than she did anyway.

After about an hour or so, John paid for Joss' camping equipment, a move that was not lost on Jenni. _So, he was footing her bills now? What, was he her 'sugar daddy' now? Spending up his money? See, that's all these black women were after. A man's money. Sure, cops didn't make a lot, but still. That wasn't his responsibility. She was just using him. Came all that way just to empty his pockets. John was a fool._

Nevermind the fact that John made a few purchases for her, and actually footed the bill for her books and supplies for school the previous semester. Her textbooks weren't his responsibility either. And yet, he paid for them, as well as for the repairs to her car when it needed to be taken in.

Their cart loaded and headed toward the door, the couple soon forgot about Jenni and were giddy with their impending plans. John grinned and joked that he'd have to swipe Joss' new fishing pole, as it was more expensive and better than his was. She joked back that there'd be nothing doing like that. It would have been obvious to anyone that they were giddy with love, that they were, at long last, where they were supposed to be. Jenni watched them go. Long after they were gone, she continued to stare at the sliding glass doors. She only only returned to her duties when she saw John's truck pull out of the lot and into the sprawling Golden traffic.

##

At the end of her shift, Jenni cashed out her drawer, punched out, and bid Don a good night. It was after dark, early evening, when she was done and at that point, all she wanted to do was go home and curl up into bed. She didn't think that she'd have to deal with John so soon after he'd broken things off with her that night, after he'd shown his true colors and dumped her for that whore cop of his. And she knew that they hadn't wasted any time in sparking up their relationship. How many times had they made love by now? If they were going camping, and John was buying her things, they were definitely having sex. He wasn't the kind to wait, as she remembered how only after their second encounter outside the diner after first meeting, how they'd come back to the cabin and fucked on the sofa bed. Hell, he probably couldn't wait to jump Joss' bones as soon as he'd finished dumping her.

He was a pig. Made her think that he cared and then, as soon as his precious Joss came in from her fancy New York City job and batted her eyes at him, and called him "Jawn," he didn't know Jennifer Maguire anymore. Oh, no! No, everything was all about Joss. It made her sick to think about it. And after she'd bared her feelings to him, pleaded with him not to go.

_"I'm sorry, Jennifer. But I can't continue seeing you. It's over."_

_"But John, please! We can make it work! I...I don't care about the drinking...or the dreams. Or Joss. We can get past all of this. We can! John, just give me a chance, give us a chance!"_

_"No, we can't get past this. I'm sorry, but you insulted a very good friend of mine, in my house, disrespected her and her race, when you had no right to do that. That's unforgivable. I couldn't love anyone who did something like that to one of my friends. I mean, what did you think? That I would abide such behavior? You don't know me very well."_

_"I'll apologize to her! I will, I promise! Whatever you want me to do, but please, John...don't say it's over. I'm sorry, John. Please!"_

_"No, you can't apologize that away, Jenni. Doesn't cut it. Besides that...I think this has been a long time coming, anyway. It just...it just doesn't work with us. It doesn't work for me."_

_"Oh, I get it. I'm not Joss. I'm not your colored fantasy, am I?"_

_"Jenni, you really don't want to go there again. Don't bring Joss into this. The truth is, I don't love you. And I think, if you look deep down, you know that. I tried, Jenni..."_

_"No, you didn't! You didn't try anything. Never let me close to you to try! You fucking liar! You're a fucking liar, John!"_

Jennifer walked to her car with the flashback running through her mind. It was in the same car that the talk happened, since he'd insisted on driving. They'd sat outside her father's house. The night chill made fog of their breaths. She pretended that the sniffles she had weren't because of crying, but because of the cold. After more arguing, the car finally became quiet. Jenni had been wiped out from all the emotional drama. At that point, John gave her a quick kiss to her temple, asked her if she'd be okay, and departed from the car.

She had never cried more in her life than she had that night in her bed.

And now, a few days later, the salt was rubbed in the wound. They weren't hiding anything. And why should they? Even if he never wanted to take her on proper dates, only wanted to see her when he felt like it, why would it be the same with Joss?

Since he truly loved her, he would want to shout it to every rooftop in Colorado.

Jenni turned the ignition on and jammed her foot to the gas. Once she got on the road, it didn't surprise her that her GPS meter displayed the coordinates for the cabin.

##

She didn't know why, exactly, she went there. She had no plan to confront them again. There were none of her belongings still there, and she didn't particularly miss Bear all that much. But there she was, slowly creeping the car on the main road down the drive from the cabin.

From the road, she could see smoke come from the chimney. The temps had dropped considerably, so a fire would have made sense. In fact, she pulled her own jacket closer to her chin to ward off the chill as she parked a little ways up the slope of the road, exited her car and got out to quietly cross the road to access John's property. It was darker there than at other abodes in the area, since John only kept one light on, near the front entrance, and since the landscape was mostly wooded. But she knew her way like the back of her hand, so lights weren't needed too much.

The cabin seemed larger to her now, more formidable, more foreboding. It wasn't her welcome place anymore, and really, after John's admission of not having the same feelings for her, she had to wonder if it ever really was. Still, she quietly approached, her mind racing, her heart pumping hot blood through her veins.

Approaching the front window, she found that she could make out the sofa bed through the dim crackle of the light from the fireplace. Shadows danced on the objects in her view. On the carpet, she saw Bear, resting in his usual spot.

Moving over slightly, Jenni held her breath as she made out, at first, a woman's face, eyes closed, in the sliver of view she got from the tiny space between the window shade and the pane. The lips on the face were parted, a tongue snaked out to lick lips. Soon, Jenni could see the woman's neck exposed, her head thrown back, as her body began to move in rhythm. Her breasts slightly bounced from her movements, and her face continued to contort in ecstasy.

Soon, the reason for Joss' response, however, made itself clear, and Jenni clamped her hand to her mouth as John's head and upper body, came into view, travelling up Joss' belly, then her the valley between her breasts to capture her lips in a deep, sensual kiss. Joss ran her fingers through his hair and pulled her knees up to his ribcage. His eyes were open, and a hotter look of desire for his woman no man ever had before.

She should have stopped her sight then and there, but she couldn't. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the view of her lover and _his _lover in his bed. She had to see more.

Carefully tip-toeing around the other side of the cabin, Jenni found the smaller window leading into the living room which offered a clearer view of the surroundings. It was there, after several more minutes, that the silent tears fell, spilling on her jacket, dropping onto the ground.

John's hands and fingers lovingly, sweetly caressed Joss' body, from her loosened hair, to her face to her lips, down her neck to her breasts and belly, until he reached her thighs. From there, he spread her wide, pushing her thighs up for better access. As she tucked one arm over her head and let sink one hand in his hair again, he slid out his tongue and slowly dipped his mouth into her waiting heat. Joss closed her eyes again, and tipped her head back into the pillow, her mouth parted, her fingers gripping John's hair. She writhed and gently bucked her hips against his mouth, as he used his strong forearms to hold her in place.

After a few moments, Jenni heard the scream of pleasure, the lingering moans, and the grunts of John's pleasure, even through the shut windows. She had climaxed, the first one, perhaps, of what would be several times before they finally slept. Just before she thought she could bear no more, John flipped Joss' tiny body on top of him, sweetly stroking her hair and caressing her back, before lifting her up to enter her.

But bear more she couldn't. That was the final straw. Numb, and blind with tears, Jenni stumbled back to the road where her car waited. Once she got in, she beat and swore at the steering wheel, sobs wracking her body, until her arms grew heavy with exhaustion and her sobs turned to sniffles. Never had she been so devastated in her entire life. Never.

Finally, from somewhere inside, she found the strength to turn the ignition and drive off, the drive back to Pleasant City hers and hers alone to make this time.

##

"John...John, stop, stop. Did you hear something?"

John slowed his movements, most reluctantly, to address her concern.

"Hear what, Joss?" he sighed on a groan.

"Outside. I could have sworn I heard something."

John hadn't heard anything, but he got up to look anyway, peering out the front window, then the side one, before deeming it clear. Nothing ever happened around his way, save for the odd deer trying to get into the garbage, but he'd put her detective mind at ease by checking it out.

"All clear, Detective. Maybe it was just Bear snapping his fangs in a dream?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy."

"Well, there's no 'maybe' about that," he smirked. "But I'll have a look in the morning, okay, just in case. More than likely a rogue deer than anything. Now, where were we, lady?"

The lovers sank back into one another's heat, blissfully ignorant of the manner in which their bliss had just been violated. A table had been turned-a potentially rather harmful one.

**A/N: Ahh, Jenni, Jenni, you only hurt yourself when you do something like that. John did you a favor, and you can't see it yet. So you stalk him at his house, and get egg on your face. They love each other, just the way it is. And Joss is right: She never did anything to you. You disrespected **_**her **_**in front of John. Just handed him an easy out on a silver plate. But women in love-pain don't always think, do they? **

**Soon, we will have travel, a phone reunion with Lionel, Machine rumblings back in New York, and more love fraught with mayhem. I hope you all enjoyed reading this crazy chapter, and stay tuned! Thanks, guys.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So, so, so SORRY for the lobg delay in getting this chappie to you, guys. I've been super busy, and an emergency family situation has also kept me away from the writer's desk. But I vowed I'd get this out before the end of the day, so here it is. A little more cabin shackin', a little back and forth to New York, and Joss and John embark on their Big Adventure. But Jenni shows herself to be even more unstable than we thought. Yes, absolutely. Here we go! Yeehaw!**

The laptop on John's den coffee table whirred and beeped to life as the software downloads he'd installed did their business. After a fabulous night of lovemaking between him and Joss, the early morning sunrise saw him awaken, leaving her to sleep in. It was time to get down to the serious business of planning their getaway to the great outdoors.

The cottage they were heading to, in Estes, was in the heart of Rocky Mountain National Park. Joss gave John permission to use her credit card as a hold for the room reservation. She offered to just pay for it outright, for everything he'd done already, but he insisted on just the hold; he'd cover the cost of the trip with cash for the both of them. He also planned to book their horseback riding at the Corner Corral Ranch, with an extra reservation for Joss' riding lessons. John's new computer would handle the bookings rather nicely. The slim notebook would come with them, as he wanted to handle other potential electronic needs in Utah once they got moving.

As the laptop continued downloading, John pulled on a pair of dark blue jammie bottoms and a thermal underwear shirt, and went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. While the hot water and grounds simmered and filled the room with an earthy aroma, it was then that he remembered to give the outside a look after Joss' suspicions about hearing a noise near the cabin. He smirked to himself. The only noises he recalled hearing were the ones right in front of him, those of his bed creaking and thundering under the weight of his and Joss' bodies in lust, in heat. Of her sweet panting and moans, of his guttural groans, and her begging him to take her good, to take her harder, to bring her rapture-and of his own loss of control.

But he'd humor his detective by checking things out. She didn't become one of the best cops in the 8th Precinct by letting her instincts slide . And if it was just a woodland creature or two, as he suspected, he'd need to know that, so as to help them relocate, or set a few humane traps for the buggers.

Going over to the door barefoot, he left the coffee to simmer while he went out to investigate. The vast, expansive sky was still and slightly overcast, but John could see the sun waging a valiant battle to crack through the cloud cover for dominance, which provided the scenery with a rich, faintly burnished golden color, tinted with hints of pink and purple on the tips of the clouds. He stopped for just a moment to admire the view, a deep, wistful sigh escaping his throat, which joined in with the natural sounds surrounding him.

He was leaving this all behind in as little as a week's time. When he'd be back he wouldn't know. And while he was happier at this moment in his life than he could ever possibly remember, he was a big enough man to allow the pang of sadness to spring through his heart. For he was abandoning, yet again, this quiet little patch of the world that belonged to him, that he'd been fortunate enough to take advantage of, ever since he was a boy. He had grown up swimming in its creeks, climbing its trees, fishing in its streams, tracking in its woods, and hearing its secrets as he did all those things. And although this time's outing was more fraught with pain, and with a sorrow much harder to dispel than other times in his life, the cabin and its woods still managed to calm and seduce him with their quiet peace.

And it just happened to be the setting for best thing that had ever happened to him. He had shared magic there with Joss, found her love there, at long last, perhaps in a way he might never have otherwise. She was right in what she'd said at Thierry's restaurant the other night: what happened between them there, in Golden, would have been much more challenging to find in the midst of gangland wars, HR corruption, and a steady stream of numbers pulling on his own attention. They had to be slightly different people in the face of all that. He, for example, never spoke as freely to Joss in New York as he had there in Golden-which was probably why she really had no idea that he had feelings for her, until his good pal, Lionel, put the seed in her mind.

He could do that: wear the mask to get the jobs done. His experiences in the CIA helped him solder the one made especially for his face. Only thing was, his mask slipped just enough for people like Lionel, and perhaps even more so, Harold, to see his real visage. Joss wore the same kind of slippery mask, too, in her own way. But it was only there, in his home away from the mistakes he'd left behind, that the masks could come off-where they happily, voluntarily took them off, as surely as they had one another's clothes.

Still, he was over the moon and stars at this point in his life, a state he'd long given up hope of experiencing again. He had her, at long last. He had Jocelyn Carter, his detective. And so, he had everything. And his cabin would be nothing to him now without her. Even amidst the beauty his natural abode had always provided, the dark flame of dreams and sorrowful thoughts doused with alcohol never let up; she came along, and in the space of one night changed his life, again, all for the better. All for the best. He would never again look at his parents' old place in the same way, after having captured her love there. There was now a new chapter, a new groove in his life's journey-and he couldn't wait to see where it took him.

John cased the grounds of his property, checking both front and back entrances, his small driveway, the shed, and even a little further afield, just to be safe, until he finally decided that all was well. If there had been anything afoot near them, it was long gone now, and there were no traces of depressed earth prominent enough to leave footprints in odd places. The air was cool at that time of day, but he could feel the tingle of humidity beginning around him. It indeed promised to be a warm day, and John's bare toes, peeking out just under his loose jammie bottoms, touched soft, though not wet, earth, even as patches of snow continued to melt and pool in the larger meadow.

"John?"

At the sound of her voice, and the gentle crush of twigs and leaves behind him, John smiled and turned around to see his lady, never more beautiful than she was then. Barefoot as he was, she was dressed in his button-down forest green shirt that he'd worn and then discarded the night before. It dwarfed her body, of course, and she wrapped it close around her as she stood in front of him. The sight of her wearing his shirt, and little else, as her bare legs attested, sent a flurry of wild and hot thoughts though his mind. Her hair, dark and full with the use of the hair custard she got from the Galleria, framed her face, accentuating her full, nude lips and soft, dark eyes.

God, she was beautiful. And he must have been silently expressing as much, because she grinned at him, with a wag of her finger, and a mock admonishment to keep it in his pants while they were outside.

"We'll have enough time to get freaky in the woods once we've embarked on our getaway, John. Good morning."

"Hell yeah," he murmured seductively. "You're damn right. And I can't wait." He slowly moved closer and pulled her into his arms for a brief kiss on the lips, ending in a full embrace. He hummed in satisfaction in the crook of her neck while running his hands up and down her backside. She was indeed scantily clad under his shirt, the only other clothing she donned was one of the lacy thongs he'd bought her from _Chameleon. _His slip up had been forgiven there, too, and Joss now would wear the sexy things he'd picked out especially for her, with pleasure.

The naughty clothing had had the desired effect. More importantly, they had it on each other. Their lovemaking had been some of the hottest, most passionate sex either one of them had ever had. Almost immediately after they'd gone to bed, he'd had to restrain himself from ripping and tearing the delicate underthings from her body once revealed, since she'd protested him wasting the fabric in his eagerness.

He'd slowed himself as she requested, but once the lacy baby blue panties and busty see-through bra were removed properly-slowly peeled off one leg then another, one strap then another-bets for restraint were off. The undergarments were carelessly thrown across the room, and what had begun as slow and passionate loving had turned to something else completely as they came together twice, three times and more before they finally fell to slumber in each others' arms, spent, sweaty, exhausted-but more in love than either one thought possible.

They were mad for each other, loud, profane in their language; wild, lusty animals with energy, with hot blood and need. He pounced on her several times during the night, as he took her at the edge of the bed, with her head hanging over the side, her breasts exposed and jutting, her fingers entangled in her locks as she tried to contain the crazy he brought her; he took her from behind, astride him, his dick sliding snake-like inside her undulating body, while she helplessly leaned her head back against his shoulder in open-mouthed, vocal surrender to the sensations that position produced, and he alternated between throwing his head back and fixing his teeth against her exposed neck; he rode her sideways, bending her knee and hooking her leg into the crook of his arm, which allowed them face time, so that they might see the helpless hunger flare and burn in one another's eyes.

He tasted her, she tasted him; she slapped him, he spanked her. They embraced, they groaned and mumured naughty commands to one another while grinning at the intensity of sensation when one did as the other asked; they kissed and nibbled with slippery tongues; they professed desperate love and desire to each other all night and early morning long. They gasped for breath as their own was taken away by unending waves of electric fire through their bodies. They couldn't get enough of one another. And they never would.

It was a wonder that Bear hadn't woken up with all the noise and commotion they'd made, a few grunts in his sleep and a twist-turn his only response. John had had sex in the living room with Bear present often enough, but every dog should have a breaking point. Bear hadn't yet reached his.

John had even left mild groping and bite marks on her breasts and neck, where he now placed his fingers to examine the skin there.

"You okay, Joss? Let me see."

"Sure, Mr. Vampire," Joss said softly, with a grin, looking downward at his fingers. "I'm fine, if only a little sore in my thighs. We had quite a night last night, didn't we?"

"Mmmhmm. I think I might be up to go again, too. Are you-sore thighs, notwithstanding?"

Joss buried her head in his chest, with her fists lightly punching his chest. "Mmm, I think we better save our energy for getting ready for this trip you've been planning. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"As I promised the lady, checking around the area for any evidence of intrusion. So far, nothing setting off any alarm bells."

Joss slowly scanned the area before she, too, decided it was all clear. "Hmm, maybe I was just bring paranoid. I just...I don't know...had a funny feeling. Still do. But...there isn't anything amiss that I can see, either."

John also gave one more glance around. "No. Not even animal tracks near. The odd deer, raccoon, rabbit, elk, that sort of thing. Nothing. It was all just in that overactive mind of yours, I reckon."

"Well, okay. Never hurts to be careful. How's about we get inside for breakfast and packing, then?"

"Omelettes, toast, and hashbrowns sound good?"

"Mmm, to go with that yummy coffee you left brewing? I think that works, baby."

"After you, my love." John motioned toward the door in a grand gesture of chivalric grace and Joss gave him a little slap on his chin as she passed by him, laughing. Pulling at the tail of his shirt, he followed after her, flapping the shirt as if grabbing the reins of a horse. Once they got inside the door, he let go of one side in order to let his free hand gently yet firmly smack and caress the cheek of her bottom simultaneously, a squeal and a giggle Joss' positive response as they continued inside.

"Bed," he murmured in her hair, as the naughty thoughts in his mind gained more traction.

"No bed..." she protested, but the lilt of arousal in it betrayed her rebuttal.

"Bed, dammit," John softly insisted through clenched teeth and a rush of breath. He pressed his own stirrings against her ass.

"John..."

"Pack later. Departure's not until Tuesday. We got everything we need. Bed...now...right now..."

His desire roared to life again like a bonfire. God, how hot and quickly so she could get him!

"W-what about breakfast? Oooh, damn...John..." She began to twist and undulate at the pressure of his fingers, which had now slipped into her thong. She swore this man was skilled enough to make her forget her own name.

"All in due time, Detective. All in due time. Now-he said huskily, running both hands across her smooth backside-get your sexy ass back in my bed, lady."

They made love just once that morning before finally, reluctantly, getting out of their cozy spot and tackling breakfast prep together. Both were naked as they laughed at each other's corny jokes, cracked eggs, chopped ham, peppers, and onion, buttered their toast, cubed potatoes, rebrewed the coffee for their breakfast, and kissed lovingly in-between. By that point, Bear was also up and about, and John got his breakfast bowl ready, while gently rubbing and nuzzling his furry pal.

The scene was, albeit rather unorthodox in their nudity, as domestic as any other might be. John and Joss operated as a couple might who had lived with and loved each other for years, along with their dog, who busily gobbled up his doggie chow. It was natural and relaxed. It was erotic and sexy. It was everything they'd both been searching for, and that had been right under their noses all along.

It was meant to be. No two ways about it.

##

Lionel Fusco was exhausted that late morning after an all-night on a number at PS 120, where a senior high school basketball player had found himself in hot water with some local small timer hoods who were threatening to collect on gambling debts made on games back during the regular season. School was nearly out for the year, but these creeps didn't forget when money was on the line. They weren't in it alone, of course; nothing happened in that area without some bigger shot calling the plays, making fools of the little frontrunners going to jail for them, and life hell for the unfortunate ones caught in their crosshairs.

He saw it all the time. This one was almost personal, though, because the boy in question was just a kid, a hot college prospect, and only a couple years older than Lee, his own son. He couldn't stand it when people messed with kids. And if he had anything to say about it, the scumbags responsible wouldn't get away with doing so.

He'd gotten some good, credible evidence to bust these guys, even if, had he wanted to, he could have just shut them all down with the flash of his badge weeks before. But he wanted to make sure what he had on them would stick like fly paper. He needed more to go on. And because these assholes never seemed to sleep, nor stray very far, he had been very much up and about in the shadows of a damn high school at all hours of the night. Now, he was back at his place, loaded with the goods he'd take to Harold to build the case before handing it all over to the Organized Crime Unit. Get them in, stop the shakedowns of this kid and others, the scumbags turn evidence for a deal. Easy.

After getting in some leftover takeout and turning on the TV, Lionel loosened his tie and fell into his recliner. He wasn't sure that he'd make it to bed, what with the sun blazing strong through his window and that was fine. Lee was with his ex, so he had no worries about having to be proper around the house.

He'd been burning it pretty hard, the juggle of police work and the numbers-essentially more police work-keeping him going non-stop. He could do with a vacation.

On that point, his sleepy mind turned to Carter and Wonderboy, and how they were doing out in their little cabin in the woods. Glasses had relayed to him the happy news that she had indeed found John, and was basically shacking up with him because of bad weather. That, and probably because Wonderboy wanted it that way, wanted her there with him. Knowing his weakness for Carter, John would be happier than a pig in shit that she was there. He supposed that no time was wasted in finally getting what he'd been after for so long, either. In such close quarters, bad weather and all, it was inevitable that something physical would be on the agenda between them.

If what he thought was happening between those two was indeed happening, he was glad. Though he had to admit that when he first realized that John was attracted to Carter, he was shocked. Not because Carter wasn't a beautiful woman-she was-but because of the way they'd met. Joss, by-the-book Joss, had been all about arresting and locking Wonderboy's ass up for him, and he'd been all about seeing to it that that didn't happen. The only reason he got transferred to the 8th was to keep tabs on Carter at the threat of a bullet from Captain America's gun. It was a real cat-and-mouse game between them, much more so than anything else.

So when they became off-the-record partners, and then friends, that was unexpected. But when he noticed the longing in John's eyes, submerged just under the surface as she conducted police business out of earshot, that stunned the hell out of him. And when he became so fiercely protective of her that he found yet another reason to threaten Lionel's life to add to the mountain of reasons already in play, that's when he knew Wonderboy had something else on his mind besides friendship for himself and Carter.

Of course, it hadn't been his place to say anything. He always figured that Wonderboy would eventually spill on his feelings to her, strong as they've been all this time. But then the baby thing came up, and Carter washed her hands of him on top of it all. That was a one-way ticket out of Gotham, for sure, for somebody like him. Emotional pain wasn't his strong suit, and since he had that hero thing going, to lose a child like that would have been devastating.

Well, hopefully John-boy was coming home soon. Even though Lionel was holding his own, and his relationship with Glasses was much closer than it had been in the past, he wasn't cut out for all the _Man_-_in_-_the_-_Suit_ bullshit. There was only one man for that job, and the City needed him-badly. Because small-time puppet thugs were the least of its worries.

Midway through a shove of pork fried rice into his mouth, Lionel's cell phone sounded in his pocket. _Ah, great. Glasses wants to pester me about something else. Doesn't that guy ever sleep? _he thought, inwardly cursing his associate while digging the phone out. He let out a gruff sigh when he looked at the caller ID and, as expected, listed the number as "Unknown."

"This had better be good," he barked into the phone.

"Hello, Lionel."

At the sound of the familiar, slightly taunting voice at the other end of the phone, Lionel dropped his spoon full of pork fried rice back into its container. His eyes darted back-and-forth in a mixture of disbelief and suspicion.

"John?"

"Oh, Lionel. Playing dumb is so beneath you. Corrupt, yes. But not dumb."

"Holy crap, it is you!" Lionel shouted.

"Of course, it's me, Lionel. You were expecting the Easter Bunny, maybe?"

"Oh, stop bein' a wiseguy, willya? Jesus, John, it's good...it's good to hear from you. It really is. I can't believe it. Glasses told me Carter found you, but I didn't think you'd be callin' me. Well, how are you? What have you been up to? Where's Carter?" His flurry of questions made John laugh-the first time Lionel had ever heard that sound come from him.

"Easy, Lionel. Why wouldn't I call you? It would appear that I have you to thank, in part, for Joss being here. She's fine, by the way."

Lionel's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh? How's that?"

"Well, you had the courage to do something I didn't. Something I should have had the stones to do a long time ago. I'm glad you told her what you saw, my friend."

_His friend? _Lionel felt a bead of sweat run down his face. Where'd that come from? They weren't friends. John had him on the hook for a murder he didn't commit to keep tabs on HR-and Carter. Since when did that make them bosom buddies?

Him being cooped up out in the boonies must have warped his brain or something. Either that, or too much sex. Or both. Who knew with this guy?

"Uhhh, yeah, right. You're welcome, _my friend_. I think. How's she doin'?"

"She's fine. And beautiful. But I didn't call to talk about Joss."

"Oh, well, what'd you call to talk about, Wonderboy?"

"Ah, you haven't changed, Lionel. Still the same crude cop you've always been. That's refreshing to know."

"Yeah, well, it works for me. So what's up?"

"Harold spoke to me about your new job."

"Yeah? And? You comin' home to get it back?"

"Yes and no, Lionel. I am coming back with Joss-but not back for the numbers. That's all you, I'm afraid."

Lionel's hopes of getting out of the vigilante business were raised and dashed within a matter of seconds. _Great. Just great. _

"Okay," he said with a sigh. "If you're not coming back to do this, what are you coming back to do, besides Carter?"

John gave a mock sigh of annoyance. "Lionel, don't be lewd, please. I thought Carter was your partner.

"She is. But I bet you two ain't just been out there twiddlin' your thumbs in the woods all this time, Grizzly Adams."

John grinned in a barely audible voice. Had Lionel said something like to him a year ago, he'd have strung him up by his shoes, and left him hanging. But now, he grinned. It was at that moment that he thought of Sam and how both of these men in his life had a way with language-and intuitiveness.

"Well, a gentleman never tells, Lionel," he said with a smirk.

"Look, bub, you ain't gotta tell me nothin.' I seen what I saw, and that's what I told Carter. When you get back here, you owe me a steak dinner, pal."

"Consider it done, Lionel. Now, back to the reason I'm calling. Finch seems to think you could do with a mentor or consultant as you work the numbers. He suggested me. You think you might be okay with that?"

"What? Are you nuts? I'm a cop, I know how to do my job!" Lionel barked into the phone.

John sighed. "Lionel, no one disputes that. But there could be some pointers you could use. Like how to low-jack someone's entire computer filing system without them knowing you were ever there. I bet Finch hasn't let you in on that little secret. I only knew because I did it in my former line of work-well, before this one."

"I know how to access files, big shot." Lionel found himself getting slightly defensive. _Wonderboy's been gone for six months and it's right back where we started, with him thinking I'm a dope. What the fuck?_

"Yes, the ones you have access to. But what about the ones you don't?" John continued.

"Yeah, well, if he wants me to do this work, why doesn't he level with me on all that? I asked him how he knows so much about what's going to happen to people before it happens, and he just gets all beady-eyed and clams up. Why won't he give me the information he gave you?"

"Because Finch is a paranoid little man, Lionel. I would think you'd know that by now. And then, there's the self-defense aspect of the job. You're handy with your weapon, Lionel, I give you that, but have you been brushing up on your martial arts? Hand-to-hand combat? Some of the threats you may face don't carry guns or you might find yourself in a spot where _you_ don't-but are just as lethal without them. You need to be prepared."

Lionel paused before speaking. This extra side job was really starting to have repercussions he hadn't counted on. Leave it to Wonderboy to throw the cold water of reality in his face.

And, as if reading his mind, John replied, "if you're thinking that what I'm telling you is more trouble than it's worth, you can always let Finch know that. You aren't obligated to do this, Lionel. In fact, I'd feel a lot better if you didn't. You'd be in a lot less danger. If our friends in HR somehow get wind of your double life-"

"You let me worry about that, John," Lionel said, cutting him off midway. "Look, thank you for the concern, really, but I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. But...if you wanna 'consult' me, then, well, I guess that'd be okay. Don't let it go to your head."

"Me? Never."

"You? Always. Listen, I gotta go. You woke me up from my undrunken stupor in front of the TV after working on one of your so-called numbers. You be sure to give a big hug to our girl for me, huh? Tell her I miss my best partner something terrible. That Detective Riley that they put in her place is a real douchebag. Reminds me a little of you, actually."

John smirked. "I miss you too, Lionel. Will do. We'll be seeing you soon."

Lionel smiled warmly. "Don't mention it. Just get your butts back here, pronto."

"Be well, Lionel. And be careful."

"Yep. You too. See ya, Chief."

After disconnecting the call, Lionel sank back in his chair, but by then the Chinese food had grown unappetizingly cold. He put it down and just decided to focus on the action happening on screen. But soon, as the TV began to blare the Sunday afternoon news, Lionel fell into a deep, yet restless sleep, his snores eventually drowning out a special report on missing and exploited children throughout the country, and the suspected child trafficking rings responsible.

##

"John? Is it necessary for you to bring all these guns? I thought we were going camping, not back to Iraq."

"I take part in a hunt, everytime I go to Rocky, Joss. Different guns for different ocassions. There'll be an elk hunt that I'll participate in with a group of other hunters. Elk are plentiful in this area, too plentiful actually, so hunts are organized to keep the population in check. Beautiful animals. A lot of skill needed to take one down."

"But, there are two big rifles and your pistol. What can you hunt with a pistol?"

"People, Joss." At her grimmace, he smiled, and explained further. "There's a shooting range in the area. I plan on getting some time in. You can, too. Got you a temporary permit to shoot, since you're out of jurisdiction. It's in the document packet in my truck. Laptops and old-yet-still-effective printers come in handy for that kind of thing."

She sighed. "You sure have thought of everything, haven't you?" He'd secured her a temporary fishing licence, too.

"I try to be thorough. We'll be away from here for a few days, on the land. I don't want us to be shorthanded anything necessary for a rewarding trip. Plus, it's been a while since I've held a gun in my hands. Been...busy." His eyes went far away for a second before he broke into a goofy smile.

"Yes, busy. Hmm. Well, I'm just about packed up with my stuff. You need help with the fishing poles?"

"Yeah, baby, that'd be great," he said while finishing up cleaning and loading his last rifle with cartridges. There was also a spare box of them packed, along with a scope, and camo gear.

Joss got the poles and the requisite accessories and brought them out to the truck. Bear followed, the excitement he exhibited never different when John got ready for one of these outdoor adventures. Before, it was just the two of them; but now that Joss was going too, Bear was doubly psyched, his running around the house, barking corner to corner, and his whiplash tail leaving no doubt whatsoever.

That weird feeling struck her again, though. She had the funniest feeling creep over her skin. It was as if she was being...watched. While John had checked things out and neither one of them saw anything amiss, she still had the feeling. Looking around and pacing the shed just a bit, she still saw nothing.

_Joss Carter, you better get yourself together. Nothing is going to spoil this camping trip, including you. Now, stop it._

She decided to shake off her suspicions and look forward, not sideways, to the next few days. This was going to be fun and interesting, an experience she'd never has before, and all thanks to her sweet man.

As John began coming out to join her with the rifles, his duffel bag, sleeping bags, tent, cooking supplies, camera equipment, and other items, she looked at her handsome, rugged soldier, dressed in dark jeans, a t-shirt, cowboy hat, shades, and flip-flops and still couldn't believe he was hers. She had to mentally pinch herself. And how far they'd come since his days as _The_ _Man_ _In_ _the_ _Suit_! She never thought she'd ever have a lunch date with John let alone make love with him, travel with him. And now, here they were. She loved him and he loved her. And this trip was the start of whatever larger adventure they were embarking on.

Pulling him close, she kissed him fully, soundly in that love. John said nothing as they broke the kiss, for there was nothing to say. He knew what she was thinking. He'd had the same thoughts just the day before.

"Here," she said, taking the duffel bag. "let me. I'll leave the guns to you."

Soon they were packed. The house was locked up, Bear was loaded into the back bay of the truck with plenty room for comfort, despite all the gear. John made a quick phone call to Sam, and then, he was ready to hit the road. But Joss had a sudden request.

"John? Maybe, before we go, I should drop off the Impala back at the rental agency. I mean, it hasn't been driven much at all, and I'd feel about not even being here while it sat in this shed some more."

"Okay. Well, do you have your documentation for return?"

"Yeah. It's in my backpack."

John grinned. "Ah, now who's thought of everything, Detective?"

Each vehicle soon pulled out of the drive, Joss in front. She had to admit that it was good to be driving again. Perhaps John would trust her to take the wheel of his truck once they got going to Utah.

"Wild, Wild, West here we come!" she shouted, honking her horn as she turned out in traffic. John, following at a near distance honked in kind, and they both laughed.

##

However, the cabin, now quiet save for the steady tick-tock of the kitchen clock, and devoid of people and canine, was vulnerable. While John had indeed locked up all entrances and exits, there was still one window that could be accessed without causing too much of a fuss. It was the window near the rear of the cabin, the hallway where John's washer rested.

It was through this window, but a mere hour after John, Joss and Bear had departed, that Jenni entered the cabin. She knew from her days of ocassionally doing his laundry for him, and her own, that he'd never bothered to lock this window. And sure enough, he still didn't.

Once inside, she slowly walked through the spaces that she used to call her own, even if John never did. She saw that the cabin was tidy, meticulously kept, as it was always. Save for a suitcase on the floor or tossled women's clothing, nothing was out of place.

Joss' clothing. The woman was Joss to whom all this belonged.

She bent to slowly run her hands over it. There were jeans, a few sweaters. A white cotton nightgown that was probably there because John liked his woman naked in bed with him at all times, so she wouldn't have needed anyway.

A cold fury at the memory of what she saw the other night ran through her veins. Clutching the nightgown, she abruptly got up and sat on the sofa bed, the bed that she'd seen them making love in. And it was love. He did love her. Never before had he looked at Jenni with love in his eyes like that. Had it been any other two people, she would have thought it beautiful.

But the two in question now were ugly, disgusting people. They'd made a fool of her. Especially John. She wouldn't give a damn about his cop if not for him. Now twisting the gown in her hands, she pulled and wrung the garment so hard her hands became sore. The pain in her wrists fueled her anger even more, and suddenly, Jenni leaped up and headed to the kitchen like she'd taken off in a race. Digging through a drawer, she found a small hickory knife and began to hack away at the gown. She ripped and tore at the fabric until it was in shreds, a pile of soft destruction on the floor.

She stopped when it was done, her face red with exertion and anger, her pale blue eyes wide with excitement and tears. But then, she really wasn't done. Not by a long shot. The kinetic energy pulsed through her like current through a wire. The only thing to do now was to decide upon what else she would take that knife to, and how soon.

Sitting down in the leather easy chair, she now faced the bed. And a newer, cleaner form of rage beat within her breast. Knife clenched firmly in hand, she pounced from the chair like a wildcat, the first thrust of the knife dragged right down the middle.

##

Jenni had made a crafty move in waiting for John to be gone from the cabin. She knew what he was capable of, though until he threw her out the day they broke up, he'd never dreamed of laying a hand on her in anger.

However, she knew very little of John's past and the kind of people he was associated with, beyond those painful dreams he had. She didn't know about Harold Finch. And she certainly didn't know about his brilliant invention, which now had a clear feed on the cabin, and saw very clearly that someone was now in John Reese's abode who didn't belong there.

A detected threat. A most credible detected threat indeed.

**A/N: Well, isn't that ironic? Jenni was trying to get John to see someone about his drinking problem while not addressing her own latent obsessiveness. Oh, boy. But The Machine is aware. She will do what she has to in the protection of John and Joss, no worries.**

**The convo for John and Fusco was fun to write. They're always fun to write for. Fusco's words just tumble out. Love it!**

**And yes I was feeling a little erotic, so that little playback of their lovemaking, oblivious to Jenni's spying was hot stuff, even for me. Whew!**

**I hope this finds you good readers well. Please drop a line if you feel-and thank you again!**


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: **Hello, everyone, and Happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it. I'm thankful for the little bit of time off I get, which allows me to update fanfiction chapters! As usual, real life is a trainwreck a lot nowadays, and honestly, the last few weeks have left me feeling like a bit of a yo-yo. I hate when that happens, ugh. More of that's to come with the holidays, of course, but at least now I have a breather to update 'Missing.' **

**John, Joss, and Bear continue their idyllic vacation in the Colorado Rockies. A little horsing around (on a few levels), a little love, a little camping, and more besides. Here, in honor of the holiday, we are thankful for smut, heheheh.**

**Hope you guys like this as you have the others, and do drop a line if you can. I appreciate all the feedback and kind words. Thanks!**

Bear was the first to disembark from the truck once the three of them pulled up to the cottage on the outskirts of Estes. He'd obviously been there many times before, and perhaps it was his way of showing off what a cool dog he was in having John as his buddy. John laughed at his dog, understanding how happy he was to be back at one of his favorite places in all the world. He felt it too, as soon as they pulled up the tiny hill toward the booking office, and smelled the natural air and soil from his rolled window.

It was a beautifully crafted place, naturally created as some sort of cosmic work of art. Bees buzzed and dragon flies fluttered, while birds of all kinds chirped, tweeted, and nested in a treasure-trove of woodlands. And he was excited to bring Joss there, to share yet another part of himself with her that he shared with very few other people. Indeed, Bear's enthusiasm was infectious.

Once the truck finally rested in the lot, after a near-two hour drive, John quickly grabbed his pack out of the back to complete their reservation arrangements in the office and to keep after Bear, who had begun running about the nearby picnic area like a child possessed. He was John Reese's dog, so he could handle himself well, in most any situation, but John could never be sure about other dogs and animals in the area. He didn't want any troublesome situation for any involved if there need not be one.

Joss laughed at the scene of the jubilant dog and his best friend on the grounds before deciding to disembark herself from the truck. John might need her assistance inside, since they'd used her credit card to hold a cottage for their stay. At the moment, though, he was somewhat comically trying to get the husky to check himself before he made any moves to conduct other business.

"Bear!" he nearly barked in response to the canine's own barking. "Bear, come here, boy! Come here!" It was only the second time Joss had heard him use that tone with Bear since she'd been around them both. Bear stood his ground, however, still wildly wagging his tail, with body language indicating that he would bolt for the trees at any moment.

"Do I need to get the leash, Bear? Hmm? Relax, my friend. We'll have time to play soon enough. Now, sit, Bear. Be my good boy."

But it wasn't until Joss rounded the truck to catch up with them that Bear began to behave himself. "Bear honey, come to Joss. Come on..." She crouched down and coaxed him sweetly, gently, and with a whimper, he cowed his head and walked over to her, his wildness contained for the time-being.

"Turncoat," John grumbled with a pout and frown.

"He's still your dog, John. All you have to do is be good and sweet to him, talk to him nicely. My days as an interrogator come in handy in lots of situations, even canine ones." She playfully wagged her finger. " But I told you about spoiling him, John. Hunh, Bear? Aw, nevermind, you're just happy. Happy to be alive in such an amazing place with equally amazing company. I know the feeling, baby." She looked at John with all the love she could muster while petting and stroking an appreciative Bear. When he began to lick her hand, she giggled at the tickly sensation.

"Yes, he is my dog," said John with a mirthful smile as he watched Bear revel in Joss' attention. "And he's becoming more and more like me each day. I"ll say one thing," he smirked before turning towards the reservation office, "he's got good taste."

"Well, I like him, too, so it's all good. One of these days, you'll have to tell me about how you two fell in with each other."

"I think I can do that. Maybe over lunch? But first, we gotta get a place to sleep out here. Bear, you stay put while Joss and I take care of things, okay?"

Bear barked his answer in the affirmative. Now that Joss had worked her magic, he was much more agreeable to being his usual easygoing self. He sat down, still at the bank of flowers in front of the parking lot.

"Good boy, Bear. We'll be right back."

Bear watched them go inside, his tail still wagging fiercely despite his calm demeanour. He couldn't help himself. This was going to be a good trip. He could smell it.

##

The simple yet cozy cottage they'd booked was at the end of a row of similarly built cottages down a winding, woodsy trail, ending just before the sand banks of a large lake. In the background, snowcapped mountains formed a ring around the landscape, laying against the backdrop of endless blue sky.

Joss was stunned by the beauty of the place John had brought her to. She found that the natural atmosphere was inspiring, invigorating, and she looked forward to exploring this new, strange world. Other campers were milling about as well, some of them arriving to their cottages, some pulling out their gear from trailers and car trunks, others were already settled and setting up grills for barbeque. Some were heading down to the lake front's designated swimming area.

And Bear was by no means the only dog on the premises. To his credit, he stood by stoically as those other dogs tried to get his attention by barking, snarling, and otherwise losing their minds at the sight of such a commanding speciman of canine as Bear was. She understood: he was indeed John Reese's dog, and much like the man himself, he was impossible to ignore. But Bear knew he didn't have to humor them. Minding his own dog business was the plan, and he was sticking to it.

John unlocked the door to their cottage and began unloading. Joss, following along, giggled at the decor of their home for the next few days.

"It looks a lot like your cabin, John, only smaller. We could've just stayed in Golden for all this."

"Figured you wouldn't want a tent in the woods. Next best bet, this here group of cottages. It'll do, no?"

"Mmm hmm, it'll do. Very cozy looking. Except, " she said, motioning upwards to the wall above the small fireplace, "that thing up there." A moose head stared back at her through glass eyes.

"Don't worry, Detective. Bear and I will keep you safe from the evil stuffed moose. You have my word."

"I appreciate that. But I think I can I handle myself, since it's already dead. Everything out of the truck? You need some help?"

"One more trip and we're good. Then, we can get ready to go riding. I made the reservation for this afternoon," he said, rubbing his hands together, briskly.

Joss sighed, still a little skittish about the horses. John smiled before heading back out, giving her a reassuring hug.

"I'll be with you the whole way, sweetie. It'll be fine. You'll see."

"I hope you're right, John. I really don't want to contemplate what it'd feel like to fall on my ass off of a horse."

John pulled her close, lightly squeezed her bottom. "Then I will absolutely make sure you're in good hands. I'm going to go and finish unloading. Go on, get your boots on. You'll love it, I swear."

She playfully wagged her forefinger at him. "I better had, John. Or else you won't love what I have in store for you."

John's goofy grin was unstoppable before he disappeared out the door again. "Baby, I've loved everything you've had in store for me. Everything."

##

Joss stared at the animal in front of her, Maisie, she was named, harnessed and saddle-bagged, standing stock still, awaiting instructions outside the stable. But she wasn't fooled. She knew the beast was an instrument of death, or at of least broken ribs. She wasn't at all bashful about her still skittish nerves in getting atop Maisie, even with a safety helmet, and as John motioned her toward the stirrups, she turned to look back at him wide-eyed, in a last ditch effort to get out of this.

"Maybe I can just watch you ride, John. You're looking fine in your cowboy hat, you know."

"Nice try, baby. But no, riding alone won't do. I paid for two horses for two riders, for four hours. Figured I wouldn't overwhelm you. Besides, even at a slowed gait you wouldn't be able to keep up on foot after long."

Joss still pressed. "B-but I could watch out for Bear, down here, and you have a nice ride on your own. It is your vacation, too, after all."

John snorted as he helped prepare each horse for their journey that day. "I'm surpised at you, Detective. You've survived war zones in foreign territory, and you face murderers and scumbags in New York for a living, yet you're scared of sweet little ole Maisie. I promise you, she's a good girl, and I'll show you the basics to be safe and gentle with her as she will be with you. Besides, Bear won't want to stay behind. When I ride, he runs along with me."

Bear barked in agreement, which let Joss know she was outnumbered. With a sigh, she continued to let John lead her toward Maisie. The horse blinked and softly neighed as she approached, a signal, perhaps, to Joss that she indeed came in peace.

"Now, Joss, first and probably most important thing is getting on the horse in the first place. How you mount her determines the pace and success of your ride, and even gauges potential for injury. Here, let me show you. Put your foot in the stirrup."

Joss did as she was instructed, while John helped her hoist up properly on Maisie. His own horse, Silver, a mostly black horse so named for the faint grey streak that ran down its back, stood by patiently while tied up to the barn post. Joss let out a startled whoop once she found herself astride the horse, John on the other side of her, helping to settle her other foot in the stirrups, and handing her the reins.

After giving her a few minutes to get used to the idea, he gently clucked his tongue at Maisie and gave a light tug to the rope attached to her, while telling Joss to just hold the reins for a bit. They began to slowly traverse the stable grounds on a walk John in the lead, Bear trotting alongside the horse. As a newbie, Joss wouldn't be ready for any fancy stuff like cantering unless she had several lessons beyond this one, so John, an expert rider himself, would have to keep that in the fore of his mind.

"Ohh...oh..whoa, horsie..." Joss felt the animal move underneath her as they walked, her powerful muscles flexing a rotating with each step. She felt like she was on a slow rollercoaster, but the more John walked her, the more comfortable she got. After an hour or so, she felt secure enough to take the reins without John's help. He taught her how to pull back just enough to stop the horse, while he went to mount Silver.

"See, Joss? Not so bad. You're a natural."

"Yeah, it's nice so far. So long as she behaves herself. Can we go outside the stable grounds?"

"Of course. That's been the whole point to your lesson. It's only worth your time to get on a horse if you're bound for a little travelling. Just follow me. There's somewhere I want to show you."

John turned the horse out of the stable yard, and Joss managed to do the same. From there, Silver and Maisie gently took their riders down a winding trail, against a backdrop of majestic peaks, wildflowers, and tall grasses. Joss was glad she hadn't worn a jacket over her flannel, t shirt, and jeans. The winter she'd encountered when she arrived in Colorado was largely a thing of the past, and summer's promise of sunny heat was being well-delivered. John, still clad in his dark brown cowboy hat, dark-leather boots, and jeans, had changed out of his earlier t shirt, and was now sporting a black short-sleeved button-down shirt. The muscles in his large frame flexed and strained slightly against the fabric as he rode Silver down the trail. The sun was already bronzing aginst his bare arms and hands. As if he heard the riotous thoughts running through her head, he turned around and doffed his hat at her before turning his back towards the trail again.

Joss' gentle grin caught his ear. "Wasn't there a story or other once about a man looking back at his wife on a boat, and she disappears?"

"Yes," John called back. "Greek mythology. Orpheus."

"That's it. Orpheus. Careful, John. I can't be playing magic tricks. I need to get back to work next week."

"Oh, I'm not letting you out of my sight, Detective. But your concern is duly noted. Almost there."

They continued on the winding trail, through woods and small valleys, until they came to what looked like a large grotto carved out of rock and surrounded by more blooms of vibrant flowers, silty earth, and soft moss. The treetops banded together to provide a ceiling against the blazing sun, while still letting its light shimmer through. As they moved closer, Joss thought she could hear the sound of running water, possibly a stream or a brook, echoing through the air. But as the birds chirped their calls to one another and Bear scooted along after a hapless chipmunk, she realized that it wasn't a stream she heard, but rather, a waterfall. As the falls came closer into view, John slowed Silver with a soft, coaxing "whoa, whoa, fella," and soon disembarked from him. He led the horse to one nearby tree to tie him, before walking over to Joss and Maisie to do the same at another.

"Oooh, John, look," she gasped. I've never seen a real waterfall before, unless it was in a travel magazine."

"Not even Niagra?" John asked quizzically.

"I've been, with Taylor's father when we were married, but didn't get to see it. Sick with food poisoning the whole time. We came back home with nothing to show for it."

"Ah, well," he said, with a sweet smile. "Perhaps it was never meant to be."

Joss shrugged and sighed. "Yeah. But I sure thought so when I took those vows."

He hadn't meant that. But now, he realized, while he watched a flash of pain move across her face that he'd opened up a new channel of dialogue between the two of them. They had never spoken about her past with Paul. She knew the overall story about Jessica, what he'd told her, what she'd sussed out on her own, but as for her own life-defining relationship, they'd not ventured into that territory at all.

There was still so much about her he didn't know, he realized.

"What was that like for you, Joss?" he asked somewhat hesitantly. He _wanted_ to know, he did. But somehow, hearing Joss talk about living with and loving another man besides him, even if that was long over with, began to leave a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. However, if she were willing to talk about it, he'd listen.

"It was fine, at first. I was with the man I thought was my soulmate, my 'IBM.'"

John wrinkled his brow in confusion. "'IBM?'"

"That stands for 'Ideal Black Man,' John. He was everything I thought I'd always wanted. Handsome, goal-oriented, a man of faith and family. The whole package."

Mentally running through the checklist in his mind to see where he fell on that scale, he found that he measured pitifully low. He wasn't any of those things. 'Handsome' he had heard about himself from others, including Joss. Goal-oriented, sure, when he was younger, though perhaps his goal as of late had been to save as many people as possible, in order to redeem himself for what he'd done in the CIA. But his faith had been tested so many times to horrible ends that he wasn't sure if he knew what that looked like anymore.

And he certainly wasn't black, no matter how thoroughly the sun was now turning his forearms darker.

He was a moody white guy from Washington State with a shitload of baggage and dead bodies under his belt, too many guns, and a dog. He wasn't the Ideal Black Man or the Ideal White Man. He was a presumed-dead-ex-CIA-operative-turned-vigilante, wanted in four different countries. What the hell had he done to turn her head his way, and get her to fall in love with him?

A flush of awkwardness-inferiority, even-rolled across his heart. She was his now, but what if she woke up one day and noticed all those things that she'd always wanted in a man were decidely not him? What if she decided she didn't want him anymore? That thought scared the hell out of him. He had no doubts about his feelings. He wanted Joss, wanted her with him forever. But she could always change her mind, still be swayed by the ideal of her 'IBM.' He didn't know if he could handle that.

He'd just have to make sure he did everything he could do to keep her, warts and all.

"John?" she asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"Just that I thought that Paul was the one, and that we could overcome everything. I was wrong."

"What happened?"

"Iraq is what happened. PTSD is what happened. We tried after he got out to make it work, but that was conditional on him getting help for his outbursts, for the voices he was hearing in his head. He thought he was fine. I knew better. And I couldn't have that around our son.

"So you left him. Lot of guys came back the same way. Iraq is a tough place to come out unscathed from. I understand that very well. And so do you, Detective."

She knew what he was doing: comparing himself to Paul, perhaps as a warning to her, yet again, about what she was getting herself mixed up with by being with him. But she shook her head.

"You got help, John, in a manner of speaking. You recognized that you had a problem, and tried to make it better. I know the difference between the man I met in my precinct that day and the one in front of me right now, and yes, you've changed a lot since then. Paul didn't do that. At least not in time to save our marriage. So yes, I left him. And I've been a single mom ever since. Taylor was seven when we split up."

John stared at her considerbly, mulling over each word she'd told him, but especially the last part. "You're a great mom, Joss. But I take issue with something you just said. You aren't single anymore."

"Mmm, no, I'm not, am I? You know, when we get back, we'll have to take things a little slower, I think, for Taylor's sake."

John let a smile creep across his face as he moved closer to her. "Hmm, are we back to the no-sex approach, again, Detective? We tried that last week, remember? Didn't work."

"We'd have to talk about it. At least clue him in on what's been happening, and let him get used to the idea."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' then." he said with a cluck of his tongue, causing Maisie to start moving again. Catching her steady, he continued. "Well, if that's the case, we're going to have to make the most of the time we have left here, aren't we? Come on."

He helped her dismount from her horse. Once she was on the ground again, she stumbled a little, as she had to get her bearings back. John caught her by the waist and slowly dipped his head for a kiss. The brim of his hat offered a touch of shading, until the kiss deepened and the hat toppled off his head to the ground.

The run of the water, the chirping birds, and John's skillful lips made her feel as if she were floating through space, and the rush of blood through her body made an already warm Joss even warmer. John slowly broke the kiss, a trickle of sweat running down his forehead. His eyes were crystal blue-green in the sunlight, the locks of black-silver hair slickened and shiny. She loved everything about his face: the reddened cheeks, the high cheekbones, the pores in his nose, his moist lips, the curve and cut of his white teeth, the salt-and-pepper stubble, the long lashes and hooded eyelids. He hadn't been her picture of handsome growing up, no-but she'd forever compare any other man she ever met to John from then on, and find the others lacking.

Suddenly, John reached for the top buttons of his shirt and, when he was done, peeled it off, dropping it to the ground where his hat lie. He then reached for the belt fastened to his jeans.

Joss was both mesmerized and cautiously curious. "John, what are you doing?"

"I told you I had something to show you, Joss."

"Umm, I've seen that quite a bit, actually-though I admit, not in the light of the outdoors. You got something new under those clothes I don't know about?"

John grinned but didn't answer her. When his boots and socks came off and he was completely, beautifully naked-a gorgeously big, middle-aged, battle-scarred Greek statue come to flesh-he continued, "ever been skinny dipping, Joss?"

Joss was taken aback by his question. No, she had not ever been skinny dipping, and if he was suggesting as much now-

She didn't have time to finish the thought before John closed the space between them and began unbuttoning her flannel shirt.

"John..."

"Mmm hmm?"

"Are you crazy?"

"I've been known to be little bit bent, sure. But 'crazy' is such a disparaging word, Detective." He continued to slowly, methodically remove her of her clothing, until her nudity matched his, her glistening, golden brown skin a love score for the sun's rays. Her own boots stood near his much larger ones in the dirt.

"Beautiful. Just beautiful," he said. Allowing his fingers to dip and trail a tickly path over and up her belly, the twin smiles of devilry and satisfaction played out on his face. He kissed her again before taking her hand and leading her over to the short path that led to the cool and clear waters of the falls.

"Hmm, you know, I have to wonder now just how many other girls you've brought here. Seem to know it like the back of your hand."

"Umm, maybe one or two." Changing the subject, "come on, Joss. The water's fine."

"John, I don't know about this. Skinny dipping? I mean, we're not exactly a couple of kids here. What if someone sees us out here? My God, John, we could get arrested for public nudity. That's not the thing I need to deal with back at the 8th, and trust, they'd hear about it. Fusco would have a field day-OOOH, JOHN!"

The next thing Joss knew, John had, without a word, jumped into the deeper end of the pond where the waterfall pooled, while lifting her up by the midriff, so that the pair of them got submerged in the sun sparkled water together. The chilly water was a shock to her system, but she knew well that it was always best to just jump in and get it over with, than to dip toes in being timid. And it wasn't as if she had any choice in the matter.

"You were saying, Detective?" John said, wide-eyed with mischief upon resurfacing and shaking the water from his head. His salt-and-pepper, normally so neat and tidy, was now plastered to his head, and she could see that, without benefit of cream or gel that was starting to grow a bit long again in the front since his haircut.

"Oh, you bastard! Oooh, you're in trouble now, John Reese!" Joss sputtered in mock rage that turned to laughter as she squealed and bounced, and splashed water in his face.

"Well, you know, Joss, I never was able to fully exact my revenge for your snowball ambush at the cabin. Fair play and all." He playfully tried to deflect the water, to no avail.

"First of all, that's a damn lie, and second of all, ooh, I'll show you fair play, John! You better swim while you can, boy!" With that proclamation, Joss went for the underwater kill. Submerging herself once more, it was only a second or two before John whooped in surprise himself, falling back into the spray of the falls, shouting in surrender and laughter. Gaining his footing on the sandy bottom, he grabbed Joss and held her in his arms; upon her wrapping her arms around his neck, they kissed and grinned against each others lips, until Joss squealed and giggled like a mad schoolgirl. For John had begun tickling her underwater.

Bear, who had been occupying himself with his hunter instincts in the grasses and flowers, heard the commotion and soon came running and barking excitedly, his own version of the canine canonball rating a perfect ten on the judge's scale.

"Good boy, Bear! Attaboy! Go get her!" John hollered at him as he paddled closer. The three of them, now in the water whooped, hollered, and barked in that special way that happens when one can feel the joy that comes with simply being alive, with present in the world. For John, those moments had always been fleeting, even before his Army career. Right then, however, he couldn't help but hope and believe that the all-consuming happiness he was experiencing with Joss and Bear would never end while he still breathed air on this earth.

Joss soon got over her trepidations about being spotted and decided to enjoy the beauty of the falls and the refreshment of its cool waters. After slowing the horseplay, she broke from John, climbing over towards the rock face out of the pond, and let the running water tickle her breasts and nipples as it ran down her belly and between her legs. Throwing her head back, and smoothing her now curly dark hair back from her neck, she also let the spray massage her scalp and face, the water's effect soothing and freeing on her body.

John watched her quietly, furtively as she enjoyed the water flow. The heady arousal that she always inspired seemed, at that point, to have increased ten-fold. In the light of nature, she was a natural woman. She wore no heavy make up on this outing, the only adornment she allowed being her silver hooped earrings, and the lack of it made her large doe-brown eyes seem even larger. He could see the few yet visible stretch marks she had on her thighs and belly, light creases in her skin that came with childbearing and age. He could also make out the darkish scar near her belly more clearly, which she'd told him the other night was as result of a C-section from having Taylor. The birthmark on her right ass cheek was a lighter shade of her skin, and while she kept cellulite in check well, a ripple of extra flesh here and there did make itself visible around the backs of her toned thighs and near her voluptuous bottom. Her flesh wiggled and jiggled as she moved carefully near the rocky surface, turning one way and then another, and he could even make out the catch of droplets in her pubic hair.

God, she was sexy. There were just no two ways about it. He knew every inch of this gorgeous lady's body, probably better than his own at that point-and he couldn't imagine it not ever looking nor feeling good to him, could never imagine losing his desire for it. She was in his blood, and right then, the more he watched her in the spray of the falls , the more his blood boiled with lust.

Soon, he could stand no more. Swimming over to her, he stood up out of the water, his arousal unmistakable, and dragged the water with him. Bear stayed, as his hunter's instinct put him in pursuit of yet another woodland creature, a tiny frog he had no hope of catching in its natural environment, but that he'd give a run for its money all the same. John caught Joss' sigh on his lips as he pulled and turned her into his chest for a kiss. It was a kiss of hunger-relentless, deep and probing. His tongue pressed inside her mouth while his hand caught the back of her head to hold her. The brush of her nipples over his chest as they moved to love's rhythm was nearly his undoing. The water continued to spill and spray on them both, and the combination of that, along with John's demanding mouth made Joss' pussy swell and throb in kind. As the sensation increased, a loud whimper escaped her mouth. That was John's signal to move.

And he knew exactly where he was taking her. Walking with her hand-in-hand and stepping away from the falls, John led Joss to a secluded patch of grassland just behind and above the falls. Without missing a beat, they were in each other's arms again, both of them now out of their mind with fever. Joss went to the ground first, on her back, her thighs spread wide as she did so. John's response was to cover her mouth with kisses before moving lower to her breasts, the nipples so sensitive that, when he decided to blow on them before tasting, she moaned and arched her back for more.

Normally, he would have grinned at her response. But there were no laughs for either of them now, their hunger for each other the only emotion expressed. Joss felt wanton, sensual, hot-all the things John brought out in her that she'd never dreamed of being on her own, or even with Paul. She was a new, different person with John, never knowing how sexually uninhibited she could be before embarking on this love affair with him.

And, as his mouth moved from her nipples, leaving them darkened and glistening with his spit, to her clit, she revelled in that inhibition, her moans from behind the wall audible, guttural, and spurred John on so that he could keep hearing those naughty sounds.

She clutched at his head and the top of his shoulders in desperation as she could feel the hummings of an orgasm begin in the deepest part of her. John's mouth was relentless, his tongue moving up and down, the tip flicking her clit over and over. Her throaty moans and sexy words became louder, and John, wanting more and more and more of that, moved his body up to spread her lips with his fingers while he continued. Again, in the light of nature, her pussy took on a different view, the lips darker, the valleys between her meat pinker, wetter, juicier, the vagina more visibly puckered.

John groaned deep in his throat, and sucked in a breath at the beauty of it all. He was so hard he thought he'd die. But he kept pleasing her. He wanted that orgasm against his lips, wanted her screams to mingle with those of the skylark's call.

"John...yes...my man...oh...you love me so good...mmmm...ooooohh..."

"And I'll never stop, Joss," he mumured against her. "Never."

He returned to her pleasure, this time locking his head between her thighs and reaching up to fondle her nipples. Joss' body rubbed and undulated against the rough grass, and the combination of that, along with John's mouth and fingers soon split her apart. To keep from falling over the edge of conciousness, she frantically grabbed at anything she could reach-the small boulder near her side, a tree trunk with peeling bark. Then, arching her back, exposing her neck, and squinting her eyes against the sparkling sun, she didn't scream, but instead her orgasm expressed itself in a long and winding wail that passed through the falls and lifted itself into the air touching the trees and coming back again to spread out into countless fragments of sensation, sensation that hit John all at once in his own center of arousal.

When she saw his face above her, he was like a wild man. A handsome, dangerous wild man with wide, burning eyes and her fragrant, womanly juices spread across his face and mouth. Pushing her thighs up, he thrust hard on the first go, Joss' gasp of pain quickly turning into a pleasurable one, and her body, still wild with release, undulated against his groin. John gasped at her tightness so soon after her orgasm, and he knew then he wouldn't last long. But he'd last as long as he could. Hard, strong, pounding thrusts were the order of the day, his trunk and thighs offering punishing treatment to Joss' body.

But she didn't mind. She loved every minute of what he did to her. And the more she voiced her approval, the more he lost control.

"Oh, Jesus...this pussy is so good... so, so good...never in my life..."

"Oooooh...aaah, John...yes...yes...baby, I'm all yours...baaaaby...mmm..."

"Mine? Yes? Yes?" he implored.

"Yes...yes...yes...all yours...aaah, fuck me, John..."

But John's fucking was to come to an end. For his orgasm shot out of his body and from his throat with a thundering roar that ended in a sigh to rival Joss' own wailing release earlier.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh...aaaaaaaaaahhh...oh, God...oh, God...oh, God..."

He rode out his orgasm like a beast, rocking in and out of her body back and forth, gasping, his eyes heavy with relieved desire. When John's mantra finally subsided, they kissed and caressed hungrily, Joss tasting herself on John's mouth, as she had several times over the past near-two weeks, and she ran her fingers through his thick, tosseled hair. When they had calmed, and he'd collapsed against her body, they lie with each other in a near-heap, the intensity of their loving sapping all tension, to leave them stupidly giddy and just a little bit sleepy.

"You think this was what it was like for Adam and Eve, in the beginning?" she said.

"Maybe. Luckily, there are no snakes selling apples out here to ruin it for the two of us."

They grinned softly, too full of each other to do more. Joss let her eyes drift slowly upward. The sun still sparkled through the trees. They welcomed the lovers home.

##

They had moved from the falls and went back to where Maisie and Silver patiently waited by the trees. But they didn't get dressed. Instead, John suggested they sunbathe for a little while, as the saddle bags he packed held provisions like a blanket, sunscreen, water, and light snacks.

After unpacking those items, the spread themselves out on the soft blanket and reapplied the sunscreen now that they were nude. Then they lie down to take in the warm rays and rest after the water play and the intimacy inspired in its wake. Bear had also come back with them and also rested in the sun, his fur now fluffy with the drying effect of its heat.

John absently stroked Joss' thigh while she watched his still face, eyes closed, long lashes fanning his dewy cheeks. He had a slight smile on his face and his straight hair stuck out in shocks on his head with dampness. He was so relaxed. So different. So...romantic. He was never like this in New York. There was always a number, always a crisis. But there, none of that got in the way of John just being a man.

It made her think of that house in Boulder he told her about. Was it so impossible to consider?

She turned her head back towards the sky to wonder about that when she suddenly heard his voice.

"Give me a baby, Joss."

She looked back find him staring dead straight at her, his blue-green eyes unblinking.

"What?"

"Give me a baby. I want children. I want you. For always. Give me a sweet little girl who looks like her mama."

"John...I told you I'm on the pill."

"That can be rectified, can't it?"

"Yes, but I-John, that's a big step. Trust me, I know." And I'm older than I was when I had Taylor. Lots to consider."

"Just-just think about it. Think about having a child with me. Or children. Maybe two?"

"Hmmm. Okay. I'll think about it. But two, that's pushing it."

"I love you." he said, quietly.

"I love you, too, John."

The afternoon stretched out before them. But John would have to pay for more time with Maisie and Silver for the trouble. As he took Joss' hand and kissed it soundly, he figured that would do just fine.

**A/N: John and Joss are just a couple of horny kids, aren't they? Well, sure, when they're off the clock, haha! I stress that, outside the numbers, John is a rather extraordinary ordinary guy, and I try to write him here behaving that way. That includes skinny dipping.**

**Again, I hope you guys enjoyed this. I enjoyed writing it, with me not having "Angel Eyes" too far away from my mind with the frolic scenes. Next time, we'll return to all the cray-cray in Golden. But with the holiday, uh-huh, I wanted to go this direction. John and Joss should have as much love as possible, haha. **

**Thanks for reading, and Seasons Greetings! **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hi, guys. Back on scene again with another chapter of "Missing Reese." So glad that everyone who has been enjoying the story and continues to read, despite my gaps in updates, is so patient with me here. If I had my way, I'd write these stories everyday. Alas, life does not allow for that, but I promise to do my best to keep it moving as much as possible.**

**At last update, John and Joss had a sexy interlude in the natural setting of Rocky Mountain National Park, after a little horseback riding and some skinny dipping in the pond. It's all been wonderful for them, of course, and it will remain so for the duration of their trip; however, seismic trouble brews back in Golden, as Jenni's jealous rage, submerged so long as Joss wasn't a factor in her relationship with John, continues to fester. Meanwhile, Finch gets suspicious, and Fusco follows a burgeoning lead on a cold case. As usual, I hope you enjoy this one, and thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: The tiny amount of lyrics used later on in the chap do not belong to me; instead they are the jewels of singer-songwriter Gary Clark Jr. from the track "You Saved Me," a rocking electric blues-rock slow drag. One of my favorites, and one I can always picture John and Joss dancing to. So there we go. :-)**

It was an unusually busy afternoon at the Squarehouse Bar and Grill, but Sam wasn't complaining. For the past few days, he and Millie had been busier than he could remember for months. The thawing temps and the blazing glory of sunshine had a lot to do with it, he reckoned, since the sap not only flowed from the trees, but from Golden's citizenry, tired from all the dark and gloom of winter this far into the summer. The pair hadn't been able to keep the beer glasses full over that time, and he was seriously considering having to hire on some temp help if that sort of thing kept up. While the Squarehouse was more of a hobby for Sam than a moneymaking venture, he hadn't needed nor wanted to take on another employee, but even still, Millie would probably be glad for the help. All the same, she was just as amazed—and happy—as he was to see all the faces of Golden's greater vicinity stopping in for a beer, a bite, and games of darts, if the mood struck.

"Isn't it wonderful, Sam?" Millie piped up, even though the tray of food platters she held nearly toppled over on the floor from too much dashing back and forth from the kitchen to the main floor.

"I'll say it is, Millie," beamed Sam. He was in an unusually obvious good mood. The spike in business not only filled his coffers, but it also kept him moving—a prescription that his doctor had written for him in recent weeks, now that his hypertension was acting up, and the winter weather put another six pounds on his already portly frame. The exertion was good for him, and he had always been a man who preferred being busy than not, if he had a say in the matter.

"I've got an order for two draft beers at the bar, Sam. Can you fill those while I handle this order?" Millie asked, rushed off her feet and taken with the two turkey club platters she had.

"Sure thing, Millie. Got a few orders for white wine to fill, too. It ain't often I get requests for _Peen-no Gree-joe _round here," he said, in his folksy way. "We might have to seriously consider the kind of stuff we stash in this place from now on. You know, like more of the good stuff."

Millie grinned and went on her way to deliver the turkey club platters, while Sam went back to the bar. But when he saw who was waiting there for drinks, his good mood suddenly nose dived like a wounded airplane. _Aw, hell, _he thought. _Well, there goes my happy day. Now, what in the doggone world is this little bitch doing here?_

"Hello, Mr. Ginty! How are you?"

Jenni, perched atop the stool usually reserved for John, sat straight backed with legs crossed , piped in a greeting that Sam heard pleasantly enough, but that read all shades of put-on, much like her fake tanner and press-on nails. She had been taking advantage of the warm weather, it appeared, her skimpy sundress showing off a curve of creamy cleavage, along with freckled bare shoulders and porcelain neck. Her blonde hair was put up in a bun, and she was made up more heavily than he ever remembered seeing her before. His old man's watery gaze took in the sight, and had he not known about her and her ways, he might have considered her attractive. But only an ugly person does what she did, and Sam's desire found no inspiration to move on her behalf.

He was curious, indeed. What was she doing in his bar? The only other times this gal ever came there was with John, and that was only once or twice since he'd met her. And while she had been pleasant enough then, there was still something about her that didn't sit right with him. However, he'd kept his mouth shut. John was the one who was fooling with her, and Sam knew, just as he'd told Joss, why he did fool with her. As a man, John still had needs to be taken care of, needs that only a woman's body would satisfy. Out there, all on his lonesome, with Bear, well, that kind of thing could get to a man after a while. If Jenni was the first young thing that came along, then he'd take up with the first young thing that came along, once he realized what she was offering. Women like her all looked the same in the dark.

He'd just hoped then that the boy knew what he was doing. He wasn't one to meddle in that sort of thing, even if he didn't approve. After what had gone down with Joss at the cabin over dinner the other night, though, he was glad John had come to his senses and gotten rid of the little trollop, getting back to where and with whom he belonged. And good riddance, too.

He was also glad John had spirited Joss away from Golden for a spell, to give them some good, uninterrupted private time, and her a chance to see more of the place. And if he knew his boy, John was surely making the most out of every second of that time that he could. A pang of jealousy still hit him in the gut—but he was over the moon that they were together, his dirty old man fantasies be damned.

Jenni continued to wave and smile at him. It had been her who'd ordered the two glasses of white wine. The date she was with, some pimply-faced sucker who looked like a reject from a skinhead combo, didn't look the type to know or care about what color the wine was, or if what he was drinking was wine at all. Well, at least he seemed closer to her in age.

"Hello, Jennifer. Haven't seen ya in some time. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Jennifer smiled broadly, all her beautiful white teeth on view. She was a handsome woman, Sam had to admit—but again, her behavior made her vile in his eyes. Besides, she couldn't hold a candle to that dark-brown honey John was getting every night, no matter pretty she was.

"It's been a great day, Mr. Ginty. The weather's been super, and I just wanted to come here and enjoy it a little longer at my favorite bar. How have you been?"

"Ya can call me 'Sam,' Jennifer. Favorite bar, eh? I didn't know that. Well...thanks for the ringin' endorsement...I think." Sam wrinkled his nose at the young lady in front of him. Favorite bar? Man, this gal was more greasy than a bowl of waxed fruit.

Jenni grinned. "You're so funny, Sam. Of course, this is my favorite bar! I know I've only been here a few times, but it was so cool when John did bring me here. We always had a nice time, didn't we, Sam? I just loved being here with John and you. Great, so great..." Jenni rambled on through her nervous giggle. Sam knew she wasn't laughing from anything real. How could this have been her favorite bar, when he hardly spoke two words to her the few times she'd been there? He'd never made any pretense of liking Jenni. Hell, he'd even cracked a few tasteless jokes in front of her, at her expense, which went completely over her blonde head.

" Enjoy yerselves, Jennifer, and friend."

"This is Donnie, my new boyfriend. He's a student at UC like me. We met in class, started going out just recently."

"Hey," Donnie said, rather shyly. Sam suddenly felt sorry for the poor sap. He nodded a greeting in his direction and shook his hand.

"That's nice, I guess. Welp, here's yer wine," he said, nonchalantly pouring her glass and pushing it towards her. When he began with Donnie's glass, the young man held up his hand and said, "I'll have a draft beer, please, if that's okay with you, Jenni."

"Okay. One draft beer, one glass of white. There ya go. Thanks kindly. Startin' a tab?" He'd hoped she wasn't. But he was not to be rewarded for his hope.

"Great, Sam. That'd be great. We'll stay for a little while." After a pause and a clasp of her hands together, she continued. "So, how is John?"

Sam cocked an eyebrow. Did she really want to do this now?

"Oh, as far as I know, John is just fine. He ain't here, though. He's off-with Joss. They and the mutt all went away together. Nice little getaway for Joss, since she's out here on her vacay. Yes, I reckon he's just fine. But then, you already knew that, didn't ya, Jennifer?"

Jenni bristled at hearing Sam's accusing tone and Sam realized he'd struck a nerve. But she recovered quickly enough, her false smile never far away enough for her not to be able to put it back on when needed.

"I did—I did see him, them, before now. They were at my shop, buying things for camping. Yes, suppose he is...having a wonderful time, with...her."

"Mmm hmm," Sam said, pouring and serving Donnie his beer. He seemed out of place with Jenni, looking all over the bar, hardly looking at her, and not seeming to be fazed one bit by the fact that his girl was talking to Sam about her former lover.

"Well, that's a good thing, I guess. I'm happy for him. Happy for them both. And when they get back, they're heading back to New York together, where they belong—_together."_

The rosiness from her cheeks drained in color all at once, so stunned was she at this news. She hadn't figured that John would leave with Joss, even if he was now loving her openly. She figured she could clear the mess at his cabin that she'd made, in a weak moment of anger, and then, once that bitch was gone, have a chance to work on getting him back somehow. But he was leaving with her? Damn! Damn! He couldn't! He just couldn't do this! What was it about her that made him so stupid?

"Oh? I-I-I didn't realize...well, that will be good, I suppose. John should...should be happy." She swallowed hard, and looked at Donnie nursing his beer. "Is the beer okay, sweetie?"

Donnie nodded but said nothing, continuing to sip his beverage. Same smirked, and didn't let her change the subject.

"Yes. Yes, I agree with you. He should be happy for a change. Sorry that thing you called yourself having with John didn't work out. Didn't make him happy. But Joss does." Sam cocked an eye at the ceiling and added, "No, ya know, on that note, I take that back. I'm actually not sorry yer place has been erased. Long time comin' in my estimation. Ya never really had a place anyway. And you knew _that _already, too."

Jenni's smile turned into a look of mildly stricken horror. "What? What did you say?"

"I said, I'm not sorry that he broke that off with you," Sam replied, with a glint of mistrust in his eye. "He was just wastin' his time anyway. Now, he's got with a woman who knows him, understands him, loves him very much just as he is. And I couldn't want better for him than that."

Jenni's expression, once she knew that Sam was not impressed with her attempt at familiarity, turned into a cold glare. "Why are you saying that? I was good for John. I could have been even better for him. But she came here and ruined everything. She came, his precious _Joss_, that black bi-"

Sam slammed a fist on the bar. "Don't you dare, little lady! Don't you even dare. Joss is a fine, fine woman, not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. I know. I know very well, and you aren't fit to kneel at her feet after the stunt you pulled the other night. Now, you and this poor fella ya done brought in here can finish your drinks—or not—and then get the hell outta here."

Jenni's icy blue eyes bore hard into Sam's face for several seconds, the hint of tears showing for the briefest instance before she hid them behind the cold. Picking up her glass, she raised a toast to him, saying "Of course, you would side with him, even if he was the bastard in this whole thing, wouldn't you? Your golden boy. What else should I expect? Well, congratulations to John and Joss. May they live long and happy lives together, and may their children look like him instead of her."

After laughing bitterly, she downed her wine, and proceeded to dash the glass against the floor before picking up her purse and walking briskly to the door, Donnie following in her stead after dutifully paying the bill and remorsefully apologizing to Sam for the scene. Patrons watched in shock as they made their way to the front door and exited. Donnie called after her to calm down and wait up.

"Little fuckin' bitch!" Sam swore as she reached the door. "That's good for ya. What ya get. Smartest thing John coulda done in gettin' rid of you! Fuckin', fuckin' little bitch!"

"Sam, Sam, now, be careful. Your blood pressure, Sam," Millie was behind him suddenly, a broom and dustpan in her hand for the broken glass., one hand resting on his shoulder.

"Let me have that broom, Millie. I'll clean this up. You go on back. In fact, why don't you take your break now? I'll see to things here. Go on," he said, once he got to his senses.

Millie handed him the tools, and Sam began sweeping, his heart beating rapidly, beads of sweat now formed on his forehead. The glass pieces tinkled loudly, soundly, even over the din of the patrons and the country music blaring from the juke box.

##

"Mmmm...what time is it, John?"

"3:30 am, honey. You awake yet? Another gorgeous morning awaits us."

"Not really, but I can try to get up. Just turn that lamp the other way. Mmmmmm..."

John grinned as he set up the fishing gear and tossed Bear a snack. He was wearing his robe, but his tossled hair told her that he'd not been conscious long himself. Joss' two men were already up and awake for their morning at the lake, but as usual on this trip, Joss wasn't quite the earlier riser she would have liked to have been to keep up with them.

"It won't matter, Joss. Just get up. I can brew some coffee for us after we shower."

"Okay. But before I do, can you come here and give me a kiss?"

John smiled, and walked back over to her, his beautiful naked lady, a vision in their borrowed bed. She was playing peek-a-boo in her way, her face sweetly appearing, half covered, from the fitted sheet. Her hair was tied in a loose pony tail. Leaning over, John kissed her gently, and scooped her up in an embrace, his contented purring her reward for the trouble.

"Hi, there," he said softly, tapping her nose with his forefinger. He cocked an amused eyebrow. "You know, I think the couple next door thought they were in competition with us last night. Far too much commotion in this lodge," he said, with a chuckle. "What must the other neighbors think of us?"

"Hmmm, that they wish they got it as good as we get it. Because we do. I can't get enough of you, John Reese." she said, and they both laughed before stopping to kiss again.

"I just hope we can last it out here until we leave for Utah. Day after tomorrow, baby. Don't want to get kicked out before then for being too loud."

"Yes, yes, yes! Utah! Can't wait. Oh, John, thank you so much for this. Not something I would have ever though to do on my own, city girl that I am. But I'm enjoying it all, really. And being with you makes it all the better. Amazing man, I got. Amazing."

"I'm glad you're having a good time, baby. That's what I wanted for you. That's what I'll always want for you. You deserve it. You deserve it all. Ready to go fishing?"

"Yes. And unlike Maisie, I know my way around a fishing pole. We should take a bet on who catches more."

"Oh, I don't go for quantity, Joss. I go for size. Biggest fish I ever caught was at a lake out in Washington. Thirty pounder, about three or four feet long. I was sixteen and I was with my dad. Last time we fished together before he died..."

The pain washed over his face, but he quickly shook it off. Joss kissed his forehead anyway, in an offer of solace for a tragedy that, while long in passing, never left him.

After a moment, John raised his head. Let's get that shower now, hmm? You know how much I love it when you wash my back."

"Aye, aye, cap'n," she said, getting out of bed, careful not to step on Bear's tail.

##

The lake, around which the lodge was built, was designated catch-and-release, so there would be no fishfry for them that night at the campground grill. But that was fine. Joss, who had not been fishing in years, was content just to hook her bait and reel out, having actually caught and released at least ten fish before it was all said and done in the early afternoon. The lake was stocked with trout, bass, and other varieties, and while John didn't quite break his record catch as a teen, he came close, bagging a trout that was probably a twenty pounder. They took a photo of it before he tossed the fish back out into the chilly waters. They also took a number of photos of Bear and each other, selfies they intended to upload to John's computer at some point.

After a number of hours in the water, the pair, along with Bear, returned to the lodge to clean up for lunch. Even with the waders on, Joss could feel herself go a little numb in the chilly wetness, so a quick hot bath was just what the doctor ordered. Later, they would head down to the camp canteen for refreshments.

John lovingly ran the bath for her, and stripped her naked to get her ready once all was sound in the tub. Then, he stripped himself and they both got into the tub. Bear lie on the rug near the toilet.

"Ohhh, this is nice. Our second bath together."

"Yes, Joss. And there will be many more baths for us to share when we get home."

"Home. You mean the cabin or...home-home?"

John laughed. "Well, why not both? The cabin is part of us now. It was just my home before, but it's yours now, too. Our home away from home."

"I like that," she said. "I like that very much. Sounds like a plan. You want me to wash your chest now?"

"Mmm hmm," John murmured, his arousal at attention under the water. "But you know, there are other things I want you to do, too, though. That okay with you?"

Joss fed him a seductive, parted-lip stare. "Oh, well, that would depend on what it is you wanted."

John exhaled slowly, loudly. It was a sound of satisfaction, of being the most contented man in the world. He gently pulled her toward him, so her arms rested on his chest, and her fulsome ass bobbed atop the soapy water. Pulling her up further, her mouth was now uniform with his, and his hands moved down to grasp her ass, spreading her cheeks apart and lifting her so that she would take his shaft inside her. With a gasp and a moan, Joss dug her fingers into John's chest, not hard enough to draw blood, but certainly enough for him to whimper at the sensation.

Soon, his mouth claimed hers, his urgent tongue sliding in and out through wet, warm kisses. She clung to him, her wet hands wetting his hair, and face. John eyes opened to hers, and they watched each other's desire play off their faces. John's heavy lids were drunk with passion and lust, and the view was enough for Joss' own arousal to bloom throughout her body. Soon, the sounds of water splashing mixed with gasps and moans echoed and ricocheted off the walls, doing so until John lost his battle with control and his orgasm shot out of him like a missile. When he calmed down and they dried one another off, it was Joss' turn for release, as he settled her and himself on the bed, and his mouth worked its magic between her thighs, sending her to the highest of highs before they snuggled under the blankets for a nap.

They had missed lunch at the canteen. But a small music festival took place at the campground that night, and so, Joss, having packed one of the new sundresses John bought her on their shopping trip, donned it, along with colorful African earrings and her tanned sandals. She also wore her hair out in loose curls, along with just a hint of makeup. John had never seen a more beautiful woman, and there must have been consensus on that, because everywhere they walked on the camp ground they got stares, especially from the men, most of whom were with wives or girlfriends themselves. John felt a mixture of pride and territorial possessiveness over Joss. He knew he had the best looking woman on the field—but he didn't want every man out there ogling his lady.

The entertainment ran the gamut, from rock to blues to soul to country-western to oldies. When a young blues performer came along with his band to perform a song called "You Saved Me," the pair fell in love with the slow yet crunchy guitar and bass. And the words seemed tailor-made for them and what they meant to one another:

_You came along and you saved me_

_You saved me_

_With that good love_

Their bodies swayed and swooned to the music seductively, the only two people they saw being each other. But they caught attention from all around them, as people were curious about the lovely woman of color and her equally handsome white male companion gazing into one another's eyes and lovingly caressing each other's bodies as they danced. Where did they come from? How did they meet? And what was that magic emanating from off them both?

It turned out a little later on, when they settled down on a spot on the ground with Bear and their packed blanket, that John and Joss met their neighbors from the lodge, a middle-aged couple, husband and wife, who told them in conversation that they'd been noticing them since their arrival. While Joss and John both blushed with amused embarrassment, the couple Randy and Wynette, respectively, told them that they had nothing to be bashful about, and that they had been enjoying having them, such a sexy, daring couple, as lodge neighbors. They soon found out why. Randy and Wynette were swingers and they were keen to get John and Joss in on their own brand of Rocky Mountain fun. Both respectfully declined. When out of earshot, they enjoyed a good laugh at Randy and Wynette's expense.

That night they decided, for the first time since their relationship became sexually intimate, to abstain from the pleasure of the flesh. John had to get rested for the elk hunt he was participating in the next day, but more importantly, they didn't want to provide more fodder for their frisky neighbors.

And John had thought Sam was bad. He'd be sure to tell him, when he saw him again, that he had kindred spirits in Randy and Wynette.

_##_

"Damn it, John, answer your phone. You or Detective Carter, I don't care which. Just, somebody answer!" Harold paced the floor of the library, far too anxious to sit down. He had to get a hold of them. Why had they shut off their phones? They needed to know what miraculous thing was happening there in New York, now that John was indeed coming home.

John had mentioned that they would be out of town for some time, but he hadn't expected not to be able to contact that them. At least Detective Carter should have her phone on, for Taylor's benefit if nothing else. He sighed. Perhaps it was for the best, given the circumstances. The information Detective Fusco had was a good, solid lead, something on this particular matter they hadn't had in months.

When Harold's cell phone rang, he answered to the sound of Lionel's voice.

"Anything on more on what we've uncovered, Detective?"

"Well, yeah. Elias definitely took Leila, and I know where they have her living right now. But there's still an alert out for her, so she's done a lot of moving around the area since she was first taken. She's in what looks like a stable home environment, but in order to cover their tracks, Elias and the brokers he deals with will come in and take her, moving her around like a chess piece to keep her under the radar. Poor kid."

"Yes, yes, Detective. This is good. She's still in New York. Just as I suspected. You must not let on that you have any knowledge of Leila's whereabouts whatsoever, understood, or they will move her. And this time, it could be out of our power to get her back for good."

Fusco snorted. "What, do you think I was born yesterday, Glasses? Look, just tell me how we're gonna get John in on this from all the way out in the sticks. This is his case. He should be the one to get her back."

"I have been attempting to locate Mr. Reese, but he and Detective Carter have gone out of town and turned off their phones. I will keep attempting to reach them. Meanwhile, you keep an eye on Leila and Elias."

"Yep, I'll be in touch." said Fusco, upon hanging up.

Yes, there was a chance, a decent one, that they could get Leila back. The Machine had picked up on her whereabouts through Lionel's high school ball player shakedown case. One of the boy's mothers worked as a housekeeper and nanny for an upscale couple in Brooklyn, and he found out that the couple had an adoptive two-year-old child. When Fusco went to inform the mother that her son had been involved in an extortion plot, he noticed the child, a little redheaded girl with short pigtails and rosy cheeks, in her care. And while he hadn't been working that case—Carter had—he wondered about the child enough to get a pic and some other information. She was their girl.

But now, when his attention and skill were sorely needed in getting her back, John was absent from the canvass, as well as Detective Carter. Harold was happy they'd made their way back to each other, but he couldn't help but be anxious about losing out on this window of opportunity. Drawing further police attention to this was out of the question, of course, what with HR in cahoots with Elias. They needed John's skills. And John needed this chance to redeem himself in his own eyes.

The Machine was engaged in activity of a different sort at that moment, however, and as Harold sat down to input data into the system, he noticed that it was giving him visual again on John's cabin. A young woman entered the cabin through a window. The Machine then provided information about that young lady, including her name and photos. It also indicated her as a possible threat to John's life.

In fact, it wasn't long before the name "Jennifer Anne Maguire" was a known entity to Harold Finch. It also wasn't long before John's number appeared alongside her face.

Harold was stunned. "Oh, no, Mr. Reese. I don't know what this is about, but you are in grave danger, along with Detective Carter. And I can't lose either one of you. Something must be done. Something must be done."

Soon, Harold was up from his seat and heading towards the safehouse he shared with Taylor as of late. The young man would have to stay with his grandmother for the duration of Joss' trip. For he was headed out on the first plane out to Colorado.

**A/N: Potential for finding Leila! Yes, John would certainly want to be in on that, but at the moment he's having fun relaxing with Joss. And yes, Jenni has issues. Poor Donnie. Next up, John and Joss venture to Utah, Harold arrives in Golden, and the return happens, which could have some definite consequences for out lovely couple. **

**Thanks for the read, and as always leave a comment if you feel the urge. Cheers. :-)**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hi, guys, back with another go at Missing Reese. Sorry it's taken so long to update this one, as I've been involved with "The Arrangement" and other things in life. Here, John, Joss, and Bear continue their journey through the great outdoors, on their way to Utah, still unaware of the turmoil in Golden. Meanwhile, back in New York, Fusco gets just a little closer to the flame in finding Leila (Elias may make an appearance here). All in all, much to sink your teeth into with this one. Thanks for reading and hanging in, as usual, and please leave a word (kind or otherwise) if you feel the urge. I read em all!**

Harold hated waiting for flights at the airport. Even though he understood well from a technological standpoint that it was always better to arrive at least three hours before the flight, he still hated waiting. And now, with the potential mayhem involving John and Joss, he was ever more anxious to get off the ground into the skies.

Having read his second edition copy of _Heart of Darkness_ cover-to-cover—including notes in order to jot an essay on his laptop in response to a critical review encouched within, that he planned to send to the review's author—he decided to grab a bite to eat and then make a phone call to Taylor. The close reading he did had taken up a considerable amount of his wait time, so as the moment for boarding his flight got closer, the use of his phone seemed most pertinent—especially in the case of a teenaged boy whose mother was halfway across the country from him, possibly in the cross hairs of something unsavory.

"Hello, Taylor?"

"Mr. Finch? You on the way to see about Mom? She's not in a whole lot of danger, is she? I still don't understand why you're going after her if it's just a routine matter. Come on. Can you level with me, Mr. Finch?"

Though his voice was steady enough, the boy's anxiety was barely contained, as he had barely taken a breath between questioning when Finch put up an invisible hand to calm him down. "Easy, easy, Taylor. As I told you before, I am going out to connect with your mom, and her partner in the...investigation she's undertaking because I have some very important information that she will need to proceed. The sooner that happens, the sooner she can get back here to New York and to you. Is that clear, Taylor?"

"Yes, Mr. Finch. But why can't you just call her and pass along the info? You said you couldn't reach her when you called? Do you think she's okay? What if something has happened to my mom, Mr. Finch? Why can't you reach her?"

Harold felt to the depths of his heart the boy's worry and confusion. He, frankly, was worried and confused too about what this Jennifer Maguire individual meant to John and Joss' safety, if anything. He tried to reassure him as best he could.

"Taylor, I will do everything I can to assist your mom and her partner in the field, understood? I don't want you to worry, everything thing will be fine. Now, I'd like to ask you, is your grandmother there? I'd like to have a word before I take off for Denver."

"Yeah. Yeah, Mr. Finch. She's right here. Hey, listen, thanks for looking out for my mom and me. I appreciate that. Can you tell her I love her when you see her? I can't get through to her cell phone, either. She never turns off her phone. Last I talked to her was a few days ago. Hmm, and to think I'm the one who encouraged her to go on this trip. Man!"

Harold had to smile at that, despite the apprehension in his voice. It was as he had planned, that Taylor would have had the swing of persuasion on his side, acting as the voice of Joss' conscience. Though he didn't realize it, he was actually the architect of something that Finch suspected was truly, miraculously, wonderful finally reaching fruition. He was determined to see that Taylor would not feel any kind of regret for playing such a pivotal role in bringing these two people together. And the only way he could do that was to make sure both of them were out of harm's way.

"Mrs. Williams," he said, upon Joss' mother taking the phone, "please try to stress to Taylor that he's nothing to worry about. I will see to it that the matter Joss was investigating in Colorado is not one that will interfere with her safety as best I can."

"I don't know if I can do that, when I'm no more reassured than he is. Please, Harold, make sure my baby is all right."

"I'll be in touch very soon, Corrine. I'm sure everything is fine."

"Okay. At this point, that's all I can ask for. But if you run into trouble and my little girl is still not back here when she should be, I'm going to be the next one to hop a plane, do you hear?"

"Loud and clear, Mrs. Williams. I'll be in touch."

As boarding and take off finally got underway a little while later, Harold's thoughts drifted back towards Detective Fusco. And Leila. That sweet little angel in the clutches of God knows who? She'd be walking now, maybe even saying her first few words. At least Detective Fusco had determined that she was being properly cared for as he could tell, though her existence was anything but stable.

He sighed. So many critical pieces all seemed to be converging at once. They might all work themselves out in the end—though, he knew from experience that positive change never comes without some sort of sacrifice.

##

"Detective Fusco, how are things in our esteemed New York City Police Department?"

Lionel grimaced at the bald, cocksure figure across from him. "I don't know, Elias, you tell me?"

Carl Elias grinned softly in the face of Lionel's comment. "Oh, Detective, you have a sense of humor. A good trait to have in your line of work."

"Oh yeah? And what kind of 'traits' do you have, Elias? Running game on high school kids? Thought that wasn't your MO, what with all the other dirty work you got to keep you company."

Elias sighed with the nonchalance of someone who truly had little in life to worry about. "I don't know what you're talking about, Detective. Care to enlighten me? High school kids? What? What is this?"

"Aw, save it, Elias. You can try that with mutts in HR, but not with me. An inside source gave me the tip that you were involved in skimming some of the take from bets made on high school ball games, including shaking down the kids who didn't pay up. There's always a head guy at the top of the food chain. Now, do I believe you're the head guy in this case? Not necessarily. But I do think you have a relationship with him that benefits you. Very small time, Elias. What, business slowing up in the city?"

Elias folded his hands and contemplated his words before speaking. "My friend, Detective, you continue, along with Detective Carter, not to understand the bigger picture." He made a show of turning his head and looking around the area of the Lyric Diner, the location twhere Lionel was able to get Elias to agree on a meeting. "Where is the good Detective Carter, anyway? I haven't seen her beautiful yet determined face for quite some time."

"Nevermind that. What's your deal in these shakedown games?"

"Detective Fusco, as I said, you aren't seeing the bigger picture here, the bigger point. I get nothing tangible from the dealings of children on sports fields, talented—and potentially lucrative—though some of them may be. No, see, what I get is information, Detective. Information runs the world. I pay for a certain kind of...access to that information, as a careful and tactile business man should know about everything happening in the environment in which he operates."

"Information? From keeping goons stashed in high school gyms and outside the back stairwells? That's rich, even for you."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Detective. The adolescent high school is rife with all kind of good tidbits to keep tabs on, beyond readings of Shakespeare and Milton. I wouldn't be worth my word, as a good man of commerce and trade if I didn't do my part to keep abreast of those tidbits—even better, to control them."

"Right," Lionel snorted. "I forgot how interested in young minds you are. Yeah. Yeah, I guess that includes six-month-old babies, too, hmm, Elias? What was her name, that baby you stole? Leila? Yeah, Leila, that's her. It's a wonder how you sleep at night, you know."

Elias, upon hearing the name of the child he'd indeed had whisked away from John, allowed a mere glint of reaction to spark in his dark eyes. Had Fusco not been such a good reader of faces, he'd have missed it. But he'd definitely touched upon a vital spot for the erudite mobster.

"Detective, I don't know what you're talking about. Who is this Leila?" Then, on another turn, he began to laugh. "Oh, I see. You've been talking to Detective Carter again. She and John involved themselves in the rescue of my dearly departed father, which was most distressing to me, to say the least. Ah, now it's becoming clearer! I do seem to remember a child, an infant, red hair, cute as a button. I heard she got whisked away somewhere, poor little thing. I know what that's like, Detective. To be a child that simply gets swallowed up by the dark forces of adult decisions. Not a fun place."

"Cut the crap, Elias," Lionel barked in a low voice.

"Detective, you wound me, really. But no, I know nothing of the whereabouts of this child you speak of. I would never harm a child, especially not one so young. But, I'd venture to say, a beautiful baby like that, she's somewhere...safe."

"I sincerely hope that's true, Elias—for your sake. Coffee's on me. Have a nice day," Lionel said, rising to his feet to depart the secluded booth near the back of the Lyric Diner.

Elias watched the portly detective exit the diner. And while he never felt much of any kind of feeling towards Lionel other than condescension, at the moment, Elias found him to be the most fascinating subject he'd encountered that day. Chief among his curiosities was why Detective Fusco was suddenly so interested in discussing that gorgeous little baby girl he had kept in a safe place—and if, by extension, whether or not he was soon to be paid a visit by a long-lost friend who'd once saved his life.

##

On the morning of their departure from Estes, Joss was truly sad to be leaving. She, John, and Bear had had a marvelous time there, swimming, fishing, dancing, horseback riding, and getting to know some of their camp neighbors. John had indeed even managed to get in on the elk hunt that was held, his Special Forces training instrumental in helping to bring down a massive bull that had proved elusive until he'd gotten a crack at it. His high powered scope rifle had been important to the kill; but more than that, it was John's skill as a hunter, honed over so many years in the military, that had really proven the difference.

The fellas in the hunting party he was alongside marveled at his abilities, and were keen to partake in his stories on military life, particularly his clashes with enemy combatants in Iraq once the hunt was over with. They were also quite taken with Joss, who caught up with him later on for a celebratory barbecue, the fishfry they had denied themselves before now a yummy reality.

But leave they had to, since their time in Colorado was coming soon to a close. And since John had agreed to go back to New York, there was much to do in getting the cabin ready for his absence, at least until he had some time to go back and wrap things up completely. But until then, they were still on their adventure, a swing down to Utah and the canyons next on their itinerary.

"Is that everything, John?" Joss asked from the front of the truck. "Did you check the bathroom?"

John emerged from the door, the room keys in hand. Having shut all lights, he closed the door behind him and walked over to the driver's side of the truck. "Yeah, babe. All clear. Ready to go?"

"I am if you are. You're driving, after all."

"Oh, about that, Joss. Feel free to take the wheel any time you like. Wouldn't want to hog it or anything," he said with a wink and a smirk.

Joss playfully returned his wink. "Oh, no," she said with a grin. "No, that's okay. I'm the guest, after all. I'll leave the driving to you. No, no I think I'll sit back in the truck and enjoy the scenery."

John raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence. "Okay. That's okay. Just wanted to offer, that's all. Women's Lib and all that."

"John, I've driven you around enough on stakeouts back home. I'm enjoying this, are you kidding?"

John walked around to the front of the truck and pulled her into his arms, smiling. "Mission accomplished. And you didn't fall off Maisie, either."

"No. I had a good trainer. Thank you, John. For everything."

"Oh, but we aren't done yet, Joss. Wait till you see Bryce Canyon."

"I can't wait!" she said with a squeal against his neck. Bear, in his place in the back of the truck, barked in agreement.

"No cabin this time, though. That's what the tents and other gear is for. You okay with that?"

Joss waved her hand. "So long as you're there and the wild animals stay on their side of the street, I'm good."

John laughed. "Yeah, I think you'll be fine." He kissed her slowly, lingering for a second or two to savor the taste of her lips, then lick her off his own.

"Mmm, let's go, Detective before I forget myself and our swinger friends get wind."

"Sounds like a plan," Joss said, looking around playfully. "Utah or bust."

##

After landing in Denver, Harold collected his luggage and immediately attempted to try Joss and John's phones again, and again no answer from either of them. While he was aware that they had gone on something of a vacation, he wouldn't have thought that they'd completely shut off contact in that course. Especially Joss, if only for contact with Taylor. He had no choice but to continue trying, leaving messages with Joss. She was using the burner phone he'd supplied her with months before, but if she ignored the messages, or just didn't hear them, all his prowess with hacking phones and computers back at the library were for naught.

Nothing to do for it then but to find a rental car and head for Golden. He had booked himself into the same establishment he had for Joss, the Golden Arms Hotel. From there, his plan was to basically do as the Detective had done: have a look around the town and visit establishments where he thought John and Joss might have frequented. Not having to keep his cover from doing the numbers anymore, it was very possible that even if John wasn't the most sociable person, he'd have been hard to miss around town.

First place on his list was a bar called the Squarehouse Bar and Grill.

"It's as good a place as any to start, I suppose. Leave it Mr. Reese not to make this easy," Harold said to himself as he limped towards the car rental counter.

##

"John, it's beautiful here. I've never seen a sky like this. New York's is beautiful, but this...this is like God's country or something. Oh, my goodness..."

As they made their way into Utah, John and Joss both marveled at the pink and burnished gold clouds over their heads, as well as the open sands and rock faces, wide space as far as the eye could see. John had seen these skies many times before, but he was never jaded by their majesty, and he had wanted Joss to experience their wonder as he'd done since he was a boy. That she was undeniably captivated by them was all he could ask for. He knew that he'd made the right choice in taking her on this trip.

"It is beautiful, isn't it? God's country. Exactly that."

They continued on, blessed by the scenery and the freedom that the open West was known for. Bear tucked his head outside the window, letting the breeze course through his fur.

After about ten or so miles, John slowed down the truck and soon stopped at a road sign. Joss was puzzled at his behavior.

"John? Something wrong? Why'd you stop?"

John grinned. "No, everything's okay. Just thought you, me, might want to take some pictures. Don't know when we'll get back out here again, so..."

"Oh!" Joss exclaimed in realization. "Yeah! Pictures. Pictures are good. Taylor will be happy to see them."

John pulled out his camera bag from the back duffel he left near Bear on the floor of the truck. It was the same camera he'd used in New York for evidence gathering when doing the numbers. After removing the lens cap and setting the functions, he motioned for Joss to pose against he truck. She did so.

"Perfect," he said. "Beautiful."

Soon, Bear joined them on the ground, and John took selfies of all three of them, about ten to fifteen, in various poses, against the magical backdrop, before packing up the camera again. After a quick snack some jerky for Bear, and water for refreshment, they hopped back into the truck and continued on some ways until they made their way towards the North Campground where they would set camp and John would set up their tent.

"You okay, Joss?"

"Yes, John. I was in the military just like you were. Even if I wasn't Special Forces. I won't break. Trust me."

John nodded and smirked. "Yeah. Toughest gal I know. And yes, all your training will come in handy if the need arises. But we should be good. There will be other campers there, just as at Estes. Should be nice."

"So long as I'm with you and Bear, it's always nice."

Bear barked in the affirmative. The feelings were certainly mutual, and love filled the spaces of the truck as it rumbled up through the trees and to the campground.

##

"Jenni, whoa, did you say this was your cabin? What the hell happened here?"

"Yes, of course it's mine. Don't you believe me?"

"Well, yeah, yeah, I do, but...why is there shit all over the place?"

"Shut up, Donnie. Someone must have broken in. That's all. It's not that bad, anyway. Just come on in. And close the door."

Donnie did as he was asked, careful not to step on the torn clothing in front of him, lest there be some broken glass underneath he couldn't see.

"Nice place...I think. So how did you get this place?"

Jenni walked across Joss' clothing and other things as if they weren't there. "You know, you ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I'm curious. I thought you lived in Pleasant City with you mom and dad. It's just weird to be here."

Jenni smiled at him coldly, calculatingly. "Don't worry about it. It's mine. I won it off somebody fair and square. He and the bitch he's with didn't see fit to get their shit out of here, so I have to do it for them. The nerve, right?" she laughed.

"Yeah, I guess so," Donnie said, as clueless and puzzled as ever. He scratched at his acne-ridden face and laughed in kind.

"You guess so. Well, it's all ours now. So, are you just gonna stand there and be a fucking idiot or are we gonna do something a little more fun?"

Donnie's curiosity was no match for his libido and soon all his questions were gone. But there was one problem. The sofa bed was ripped to shreds.

Jenni followed his eyes and had a quick answer. "Oh, that. That's theirs. I'm getting rid of it. None of that stuff belongs here anymore. Yep, spring cleaning is a little overdue, but I'll take care of it. But," she said seductively, "there is still the chair."

Donnie was a bit dim, but when it came to matters of getting some, he was a quick study. "Hell yeah, the chair works..."

Jenni pulled off her turtleneck shirt, and pretty soon Donnie had his hands on her jeans button, while she divested him of his coat, shirt, and belt. Soon, they were both naked, and they covered the chairs with their bodies. Donnie took Jenni roughly, his thrusts hard and punishing. But Jenni loved it, each one. Because as he did so, she was able to remember. She was able to feel him. His warmth. His hardness. His passionate lips and experts hands and fingers. She could feel him. _John_. _John_.

"Ohhhhh, God...you're back...you've come back to me...oh yes, John...John...I love you...I can...I can make you happy, John..."

Donnie stopped just before he was about to come. He froze, his expression partly dim, partly surprised, as if he had no real sense that he actually should have been furious with her. He just seemed as if he'd been taken on a fieldtrip to a place where he'd never been before, and he was too amazed by it all know any better.

"What? John? Jenni, my name is Donnie, remember? Who the hell is John?"

Jenni was stunned enough for the both of them, though. The realization of what had taken place, where, and with whom sent hot shivers of shame down her back.

"I...I...don't know...I...don't..." she stammered, her cold blue eyes wide, her face reddened.

"Well, what the hell, Jenni? Is there some other dude in your life? I don't get this...I thought we had something good here..."

"Get out," she said in response, sudden revulsion creeping all over her body.

"Why? Look, I don't care if you called out for some other guy. We were so close just now. Come on, Jenni-" 

"GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT!," she screamed over and over again. Soon, she was hysterical, and leaped off his lap like a struck cheetah towards the kitchen area, her bare back facing him, arms folded around her middle. Donnie, now confused and scared, quickly got his clothes on from the messy floor and did her bidding. But he tried one more time.

"Jenni...what is wrong? Let me help you."

"I don't need your help. I'm fine. Just—just go, please? Go!"

"Okay, I'm going. But if you want to talk or anything, you know where I am."

She remained silent until she heard the shuffle of clothing turn into footsteps and then he was gone. From there, the sobs rang out against the walls, the refrigerator door, the kitchen window, and the brick wall separating the living room from the kitchen. She wailed and railed, and then beat her fists against her temples until she fell, still naked, in a heap on the floor.

"Oh, God...oh God, John...John! You son of a bitch...you...stupid...son of a bitch...you and your damn bitch cop..."

Soon, saucers and cups found their way, broken, onto the floor. She hadn't been finished with the place after all, with the destruction of the bed and Joss' things. Even Bear's dog dish wasn't spared. Her frustrations knew no bounds.

When she was spent, Jenni slid to the floor, her eyes puffed from crying. It was cold on her bare flesh and she winced at the feeling on her legs and bottom. When was the last time she'd been on the floor of the cabin? Oh, yes. The night John threw her out and broke up with her, so that he could promptly start fucking his bitch cop. She'd never, ever forgive him for that, as long as she lived.

"You'll be sorry, John. Both of you will be fucking sorry. You'll see. I promise you."

##

Parking the rental car he'd picked up from the airport, Harold got out and took a look around. So this was where Mr. Reese had brought himself, and in turn, Detective Carter in pursuit of him. It was a quaint city, very much the western ideal he'd very much considered as a boy. It wasn't much different in ways from the tiny midwestern town he grew up in in Iowa. Well, he surmised, it was somewhere close enough to civilization without having to engage civilization if necessary, even if it wasn't as large as New York.

The Squarehouse Bar and Grill was across the street. He would start there. The Machine had given him the address as a place of interest in locating John, and while Joss hadn't told him about where she found him, he had a feeling he'd hit paydirt on getting information on his current situation, in particular the young woman The Machine was getting feeds on, Jennifer Maguire.

Entering the bar, Harold found his way to a booth and a menu. He wasn't intensely hungry, but a light meal would do him well after the flight.

"What can I do you for, my friend?" Sam ambled over to him, a slight glint of suspicion in his eye.

"Oh, I haven't had a chance to peruse the menu yet. Might I have a minute?"

"Sure. Sure, you can have a minute to 'peruse' the menu. I reckon you ain't from round these parts."

"No, actually, I'm not. New York."

Now Sam's eyes narrowed even further. He looked Harold up and down. "New York, you say? Well, we've been doing a boffo business with folks from New York as of late."

Now it was Harold's turn to react, unable to hide the slight smile on his face. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so," Sam repeated. "And while I know New York's a big city," he said, sitting down now, "I have a feeling that it's a lot smaller than most people think. Name's Sam Ginty."

"How do you do? Harold Finch."

Sam leaned back in his seat and smiled satisfactorily. "Mmm hmm. John's told me a lot about you, Harold Welcome to Golden."

Harold pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ginty. Relieved, in fact."

"Oh?" asked Sam. "Why is that?"

"I may need your help. John, and by extension Detective Carter, could be in danger. And I came here to stop that danger from happening."

Sam eyed Harold again before yelling over to Millie. "Bring us two beers, Millie. My usual and whatever Mr. Finch here will have."

"Now, why do you start from the beginning, Harry?"

"Sensible, Mr. Ginty. Of course," Harold said before clearing his throat and folding his hands on top of the table.

**A/N: So Jenni has gone back off the deep end and now seems heck bent on some kind of bizarre revenge, while Joss and John continue to enjoy their trip. Harold and Sam will join forces for a bit of sleuthing, hopefully to stop whatever it is Jenni has planned. And poor Donnie has no clue, but he will be involved in this as well. Of course. Jenni has annointed him, hahaha! He's gone. **

**Again, hope this long awaited update is to your liking, and apologies for taking such a long time to get back to it. Thanks, all, for keeping it lit, and stay tuned!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: And after much hiatus, we're back with Missing! A number of you guys have asked when I'd get up another chapter, and now, your wish is my command (so long as you can be patient with me and the topsy-turvy life I lead, haha). So, Finch is now in Colorado and has met up with our favorite curmudgeon, Sam Ginty (yes, I stole that from the movies). They will soon be on track to finding out just what it is that Jenni is up to, and how much of a danger she is to John and Joss. Meanwhile, those two continue to enjoy themselves a little while longer in Utah. Things roll on from there.**

**Thank you guys, one and all. I know I'm bad for the cliffhangers, but it comes from an honest place, haha. Enjoy the summer and stay tuned!**

John stopped and turned around to see Joss take halting, hesitant steps forward on the grass and clay like earth they were crossing. "You okay honey?"

She also stopped for a moment to take a breath and wipe her brow. "Mm hmm. Yeah, I'm okay, John. It's so beautiful out here. So...peaceful and quiet."

John wasn't fully convinced, despite her words of tourist confidence. The sun was up high at that point, and under the brim of his cowboy hat, he squinted at her with concern. He motioned to his faithful companion with a whistle and finger snap.

"Bear! Bear, go run with Joss, boy. Go run with Joss."

Bear scampered behind John to catch up with Joss, as instructed, who had indeed fallen behind John just a little bit as they walked the canyons and hills on their hike. She was fine, for the most part, but the uneven surfaces were unpredictable, and she wanted to make sure that she didn't do something foolish like step wrong and twist her ankle out there. But for the most part, she was being honest in saying that she was okay.

Her basic training came back to her, and it came in handy for this particular expedition. And the landscape in front of her was breathtaking all on its own. She had never experienced natural splendor, unspoiled, such as this, even on her cruises to the Caribbean, taken when she was a teen. Yes, it was hot out, and yes she was trying to be careful; but some of her slowness came just from simply wanting to take in the scenery, that natural splendor. All of this was old hat for John, of course.

"John, I'm good. What are you worried about?" She bent down to pet Bear as he caught up with her.

"I just don't want you to lose your way. I could turn around and you'll have tumbled down a side face or something. And I don't want you to get bored either."

"No chance of that," she said, stopping once they were together again. "It really is beautiful here. My goodness. This sky is incredible, just like when we got here. Wow."

John stared at her admirably from under his brim. The sun made the color of his eyes pop silver green and his tan had gotten deeper under the green fatigue tee-shirt he wore. She felt herself flush with warmth more from his gaze than the rays of the Utah sun overhead. How could he do that? Make her feel like she was sixteen all over again, like nothing?

"I really am glad that you're having such a good time, Joss. I think I might have just unleashed a wilderness woman."

"Well, if that was at all what you were aiming for, mission accomplished, soldier. I hope we can come back again some day. Maybe go even further along next time."

"Oh? What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, I've never been to Washington State before. Maybe see where you were born?"

John nodded. "Uh, sure, that could be arranged, I think. Pack your rain gear, though."

"It's a plan," she replied. They both grinned at each other before John bent down to dig out the water thermos from their camp gear. It was high time for a little rest and drink anyway. He handed a cup of the precious liquid to Joss, and dripped some of his own for Bear, who slurped it up greedily.

"I was thinking that, after we head back to camp, we'd stop by the general grocery and get some food supplies there. They're usually well equipped for whatever we'd need for a private barbecue," he said after a long swig of water.

"Okay. Burgers?"

"Yes, they have frozen burgers. Buff burgs, turkey burgs, whatever you want. Steaks too, though I don't know how ambitious you want to be."

"I think I'll stick with regular ole hamburgers. We don't have any ice in the cooler, though. We'd need that."

"We can get that. Along with everything else. And more jerky for Bear. A little longer out here, and then we head back to get settled in."

She nodded. After a few more sips of water, they were ready to continue. Joss, bedecked in a baseball cap, tank top, jeans, and the hiking boots John bought her back in Golden, hoisted her backpack on again and, this time grasped John's hand to keep up with him. He smiled at her, gave it a squeeze, and pointed to a canyon he wanted to show her, which was adorned with ancient carvings, possibly done by the natives to the area. It was a little bit steep, but well worth the climb. Besides the carvings, the view from that spot of the canyons was fantastic.

Joss agreed, eager to see as much of the landscape as she could. And she was not disappointed. As John regaled her with tales of what he knew of the area—which was extensive—she asked questions, gasped in surprise at what she learned, and tried to commit as much of it to memory as she could. Indeed, she was gaining an education she'd never considered before, and from that, she felt the growth that was surely taking place.

After one last stop to soak in the sun, breathe in the open air, and take more photos, they headed back down the canyon trail to the secluded space John had parked the truck. The seats had gotten warm, even in the seclusion, but John's AC soon cooled them all down to comfortable levels. The drive back would be as lovely as the drive up. They were good. They were so good.

##

Donnie walked up to the Squarehouse Bar and Grill door hesitantly, his dropping by unexpectedly a potential cause for trouble. He remembered how the last visit he'd paid there went down, as Sam, the owner, seemingly made Jenni regret the day she was born for coming in there. He was still cloudy on all that had happened, but he remembered the man's name Jenni had been involved with before him. John something or other. Some hot shot guy from New York who had roots in the area. And it sounded like he'd hurt Jenni pretty badly, if that weird first time they'd had sex was anything to go by.

But that wasn't the reason for his visit. He'd come there to retrieve something of Jenni's, something she'd asked him to get for her because she couldn't stand to face Sam after the other night. She was probably right to be cautious. Sam had finally told her what he'd felt about her from the start, without John being there to stop him. He probably would have, even if he was now with Joss and affirmed in their love. It was just the kind of man John was. But Sam wasn't. The only reason he'd held off so far was because of John's feelings. However, now, with him cutting her loose, there was no need for him to hang back on her. To him, she was a bitch. A hot little bitch, but a bitch all the same. And she was never any good for John.

Donnie rapped on the door. When it didn't open right away, he rapped on it again, harder the next time. Soon, the sound of stomping feet, lumbering across the wooden slat floor of the saloon could be heard, just before the door swung open and the young man came face-to-face with the red face of the grouchy own of the bar. He swallowed hard before speaking, his own face now as white as a sheet.

"Hello, Sam...uh..."

"Whaddya want? We're closed today!" Sam barked.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I just came to get something my friend Jenni left here. Her schoolbag. She was using it as a purse. She said she left it here. Can I get it?"

Same wrinkled his eyes. "Schoolbag? Hmph. I don't know nuthin' about any schoolbag. Maybe Millie does. Millie?" he bellowed towards the back.

Millie had heard the young man come in and what his business was, and sure enough, she came out towards them with Jenni's schoolbag.

"Here you are, fella. Nothing's been touched. Everything's all there."

"Thanks," Donnie stammered, taking the bag.

"All right," Sam grumbled. "Ya got yer damn bag, now git on outta here."

After a moment of further hesitation, Donnie managed to catch a little bit of backbone for himself. He knew that Sam was in John's corner, but he didn't really think it was fair of him to slam Jenni so harshly like that.

"Hey, man, what's your problem? I mean, I don't get it. What's Jenni ever done to you?"

"My problem?" Sam turned to him and replied, one eyebrow raised in mock surprise. "I don't have any problems, son. But you might. Hangin' around with that girl, you might."

Donnie shifted the bag from one hand to the other, not quite knowing what to say to Sam's remark. But Sam didn't wait for him. Now that the boy was there, this reminder of that troublemaking girl, he'd had his hornet's nest stirred, and he let it rip.

"Yes, nothing but trouble. You'd better watch her, or else."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam chuckled. "Boy, if you don't know already, I can't tell you any different. Have a nice day, son."

"I'm not your son, Sam. And Jenni's a great girl. You don't know her."

"Oh, I know all I need to know. I know she's a bigot, for one thing. That's enough not to recommend her to anybody with sense. And I know she's trouble. If I wasn't clear on that before—which I think I was, actually, just not out loud—I surely am now. If you were smart, you'd steer clear of her. But then, a boy will get stupid when free pussy comes his way."

"Hey, man, you're outta line!" Donnie could feel himself getting angry, and he wasn't even fully clear on what Sam was talking about.

"Okay, I'm outta line. Like I said to ya before, bag is gotten, now git." He returned to walk back behind the bar, when Donnie's words stopped him.

"You shouldn't treat people that way, Sam."

Sam turned back around again. "Really? And what about Jennifer, hmm? How about how she treats people? A good friend of mine was in a real bad way when he come back here, and while his foolish decision to get involved with her was his own, her behavior after the fact wasn't all that hospitable in turn. A colleague of my friend came here to see about him because she cares for him very much—and your little _Miss Jenni_ went about it all wrong cos of jealousy. Called her names, horrible, ugly names, racist names. Now, I ain't yer average run-of-the-mill bleedin' heart or anything, but the woman she insulted, to her core, is a fine woman. A patriot, serving her country both here and abroad with honor. And that fool girl had the gall to wind her mouth up and call her out her name. Now, maybe that would mean nothing to the likes of you two but, but where I come from, that's a cardinal sin. And thank God John came to his senses, that's all I know."

"Maybe she made a mistake, Sam. Is that still a reason to dump on her like that? I mean, you should have seen her after we left here that last time. When we got to her cabin-"

Sam stopped cold there, as if an arctic wind had slowly blown into the bar, creeping into his skin.

"Cabin? What cabin?"

"The cabin not too far from here. The cabin down the road. Why? You know it?"

Sam thought fast. What the hell was this fool girl up to? _Her cabin? _

"No. I don't know it. Last I heard, she was living with her folks in Pleasant City. Well, if someone gave her some property, maybe...that'll be good for her. Give her something to think about other than herself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a bar to get ready for the dinner rush. You got yer bag. Have a good day."

"Right, man. Okay. Sorry for the trouble. Thanks."

Donnie turned, without another word and departed the bar with Jenni's bag. When Sam knew he was gone for sure, he quickly lumbered to the counter and rummaged fitfully for his cell phone. He had to get a hold of Harold. Better yet, he had to get a hold of John. Where in damnation was he?

The situation with Jenni may have been even worse than any of them could have originally imagined.

##

It was a mere fifteen minutes later when Harold limped into the entrance of the Squarehouse. As usual, he was dressed in his customary suit and tie, even on an increasingly hot afternoon, a point that was not lost on Sam as he appeared.

"Ya look like yer going to take over the world, Harry," Sam said to him with a chuckle, despite the seriousness of his visit. "Colorado summers can be unforgiving."

"Yes," Harold said with a wide-eyed smirk. "I'll keep that under advisement. What have you been able to find out about our mutual interest?"

"Well," Sam said with a heavy exhaling of breath, "you might want to sit down and get comfy for this one, Harry. What can I get for you?"

"A draft beer will be fine, Mr. Ginty, thank you."

Sam went behind the bar to fetch the beer, and continued. "I really wish I could get a hold of John. He needs to be here for this. That girl is taking things too far." 

Harold nodded. "Yes. It's not like Mr. Reese to completely distance himself from all contact. This last six months notwithstanding, of course."

"Well, that could be part of it. He's gotten into a habit since being back out here that means he doesn't feel rooted to anything or anyone, except Jocelyn, of course, so if he walks off the grid again, even for a few days, that's just the way it is. But he needs to get back here. No telling what that girl will get up to, or is up to."

"Mr. Ginty, what have you discovered," Harold asked again, once Sam returned to sit with him, two beers in hand. Sam looked in straight in the eye.

"I had a visitor today, a young, stupid fella by the name of Donnie. Jenni's boyfriend, by the looks of things."

Harold's pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Yes? Go on."

"Came back here after I threw them out the other night, wanting me to return that duffel bag we had a good time going through when you come to visit. 'Course, Millie told him that nothing had been touched in it."

"Yes. Probably wise. No point in letting Ms. Maguire get any wind that someone might be on to her at this stage of the game."

Indeed, Harold and Sam did peruse the contents of Jenni's bag after she'd left it at the bar on her last visit. There was little out of the way about it—save for two items of great interest: one, a letter from her college bursar's office, stating that she was being denied registration for the following semester, due to an unpaid balance which her college aid would not cover, and two, a man's tee-shirt. Sam had seen that tee-shirt before. It was one of John's old shirts that he wore here and there. The two men put the contents of the bag back together, but not before Harold got screen shots of both the letter contents and the tee-shirt.

"But it gets worse, Harry. I have reason to believe that Jennifer may be taking advantage of the fact that John and Joss aren't around his cabin, and she's now calling it hers."

"What would give you that impression, Sam?" Harold asked, after a sip of the cool beer.

"The young fella said as much. He let it slip when he was here. Said something about 'her cabin' and its location. I tell you, she's up to something. I always thought something was off about that girl, and now, after showing her true colors, I know it."

"Quite, Mr. Ginty. If this young woman had emotional problems before she met John, his rejection of her in favor of Detective Carter could very well be what might push her over the edge. Perhaps I might have a look around the cabin. Where is it located, exactly?"

"Not too far from here. Down the back road, actually," Sam replied, indicating the direction with his thumb.

"Thank you. I trust that it is not a difficult trail for cars to pass through?"

"Oh nah. John has a truck. Gets through just fine. You want me to go with?"

Harold shook his head thoughtfully. "No, no that shouldn't be necessary, Mr. Ginty. I don't intend to meet up with Ms. Maguire, if indeed she is there, though, of course, anything is possible. No, I'd just like to take a look around the perimeter, maybe have a peek inside. Should take no more than a few minutes."

Sam nodded. "All right, Harry. But be careful. Like I said, no telling what that gal is capable of."

"I shall, Mr. Ginty. And thank you. For the beer."

##

"My compliments to the chef," Joss said, with a smile on her face, after having had one of John's BBQ burgers. Along with the salad, corn, roasted potatoes, and ginger ale, the burgers hit the spot after a long afternoon of hiking. Because of the summer season, dusk would not come for another few hours, but Joss was ready for a nap all the same. Their tent had all the comforts of home that it could have, given the circumstances, so she looked forward to crawling into it and getting a good night sleep, curled up in John's arms, Bear keeping watch outside. John, who was also contentedly full after their camp cookout, had other ideas. They hadn't had sex since they left Estes, and since their campsite was out of the way of most other hikers on the land, they'd have little problem with interruptions. She could sleep later; he wanted to have her, and he was determined to do so.

"Thank you," he said with a half-seductive smile, while putting the small cooking fire out he'd started. "I have to keep my girl well-fed and well taken care of. That's my job, you know."

Joss wrinkled her nose at him. "Was it the same for Jenni?"

"What? And why are you bringing up Jenni again? I thought we agreed that she was a closed subject."

"John, will you stop that? I'm not a damn project for you to complete. And I won't break either. Really. Just...chill, okay? I'm not some helpless flower here. You know that."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Joss. The only thing I'm trying to do here is make everything to be right for you, for us. I'm sorry if you think I treat you like a project. I wasn't aware that that was what I was doing." His eyes went down cast, and he quietly began to gather their supper dishes and utensils for washing at the camp station nearby. Bear busied himself with a twig in the grass to keep his jaws in good order.

Joss sensed a bit of hurt feeling on John's part. She didn't want that. Didn't want him to feel bad for being good to her. But she also didn't want him to make that his only aim in life. She wasn't used to it—and it wasn't fair to him anyway.

"Baby, come here. Come here," she said gently, while getting up to stop him midway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that-"

"I'm fine, Joss," he shrugged, his bottom lip pouting out, while he refused to look her in the eye.

"No, you're not. Come, come here."

He stopped, and then looked her in they eye. And as she suspected, a touch of pleading hurt was absolutely there. He didn't say anything.

"John, look. I am still not used to this. All this. Looking towards someone in my life to count on. Not having to worry about things because someone else has taken care of it. I'm the one who does that. I just...I don't know..."

"But sweetie," John said, finally speaking, a crack of a smile twinkling through the twinge of pain in his expression, "isn't that the foundation of our relationship? Hasn't it always been? I've always had your back. And you've had mine. Joss, I threatened the biggest crime bosses in New York, including your HR bosses in the department, with serious damage if they even thought about harming you in any way. And they didn't, not after that first time. Because they knew I'd get them all if they did. There would have been no way they could have hidden from me. And as for you, you have looked out for me, watched over me too. Given me hope that there was another way besides darkness—and death. All that stuff's pretty heavy, Joss, and I'm fine with that, if need be. But why can't I do that for you here as well, where things are much nicer, sweeter for you? Where you can put all that shit aside, for just a little while? You deserve that, and so much more. You're amazing—and I want...I want you to have some good in this life, some joy. The same joy you give me just by being here. You understand me?"

"John, I know, and I'm always in your debt, but-"

"Joss...I love it. I love taking care of you. Giving you what you need to make you smile. I need to take care of you. You know me. You know how I'm wired. No debts."

She smiled shyly. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"All right, then. Stop fighting me about it, okay? Like I said to you the other day, let me love you. Just...let me love you, honey. I've waited so long to be able to love you."

She tucked her forehead on his shoulder. "Okay. I'll stop."

John put the dishes down and caught Joss in his arms. What started out as a heartfelt hug soon turned to passion. Their lips touched and brushed one another's until John uttered a groan and slid his tongue into Joss' mouth. The passion swirled all around them, and pretty soon, John forgot about washing dishes, while Joss forgot about how tired she was. The only thing they knew is that the heat outside paled in comparison to the heat they generated together.

"Mmmm...love you," he murmured against her neck.

"Love you, too," she replied in heady response.

They crawled inside their tent as the skies began to make the slow and burnished transition to night's starry cover. Outside, the trees absorbed the sounds of clothing being removed, of love words and helpless moans. Their passionate gasps, slapping thighs, and heavy breaths culminated in guttural groans and more words of clinging love and desire.

" I do need you, John. I do. So much. Stay with me."

"Always, Jocelyn," he said, stroking her hair, while his eyes twinkled at her in joy. "I've been waiting for you my whole life. Now that I've found you, I'm never letting you go. Count on that."

The sky above them turned purple as it made the beginning journey from day to night.

##

Harold realized, as he approached John's cabin, that he had little daylight left to conduct his investigations. Time would be of the essence, but as he was, as he'd told Sam merely going to see where John lived and if there was anything to Donnie's story from earlier, that shouldn't take long.

And truth be told, he was curious about where his friend and former employee had been keeping himself for the past six months. What was life like for John while he and the Machine languished without him back in New York? Having spent the past few days in Golden, he could see why John would, beyond the familial ties, resign himself to this place. It's open wideness was a stark contrast to the sometimes stifling density of New York. It actually reminded him a lot of his own childhood environs in Iowa. It was a good place to escape to.

The car stopped after something of a winding, slow ride down a woodsy, secluded road off the main road. Harold pulled out his phone and made two calls. The first was to Sam to tell him that he'd arrived at the cabin and was on route to having his look-see, and the next one was, interestingly enough, to Lionel, back in New York. He decided to fill him in on what it was that was happening there, just in case.

"Crazy. I mean, that's crazy, Glasses. So, Wonderboy's gotten himself mixed up with some kind of cowgirl femme fatale, huh? That's rich, even for him."

"Yes, Detective. It does seem to be quite the quandary. Meanwhile, John is still away with Detective Carter, and we can't get a hold of either of them. Perhaps that's a good thing, given the situation."

"Well, anything on this end I can do, you let me know. We just got John back, we don't want to lose him again."

"Indeed, Detective. I'll try to keep you posted."

"Right. Be careful, Glasses."

"Will do. Goodbye, Detective."

Harold hung up and pulled out a small yet powerful flash light just in case. He also used his laptop to send coordinates to John's laptop, in the event that he might take a gander at it at some point during his trip. That would let him know that Harold was in the area. He hoped something got through to him before it was too late.

He disembarked from his car, his limp more pronounced on the gravely road, but not any more of a hindrance to him than normal. He walked towards what looked like the front entrance of a wood-and stone-chimney framed structure that, on the outside, looked charmingly cozy, fairly large, and generally well-kept from the state of things. Of course, John would find a kind of solace here. And since it was a family residence, he would be very eager to keep it in good condition.

Harold checked around the grounds. The woodlands were a nice touch, as was the meadow with the wildflowers in the distance. Walks after dinner would be perfect there, he thought. A very pretty backdrop.

As he turned back towards the cabin face, he noticed tracks in the soft earth. Those could have been John's or Joss' perhaps, but these were fresh, whereas John and Joss had left over the week before. And these tracks made patterns towards the other side of the cabin, not the front door. He decided to follow them. The trail led to a back window where they stopped. Indeed, the window was slightly raised. Lights out, Harold took the flashlight and shined it inside the window. He noticed a washer-dryer set up in the corner, as well as a clothes line, and a large tub. A throw rug covered the floor. Nothing amiss—until he thought he saw the flit of a person form pass in front of the end of the room.

His eyes opened with alarm. He quickly went to the other side of the cabin, as fast as his limp would allow him, to see if what he thought he saw was real.

Nothing, though. Whatever it was, or whoever, stopped. But Harold, knowing what he knew of Donnie's claim to Sam, was not to be put off so easily. He rounded back towards the deck side of the cabin to get another look. And again, the flit of a person's body across the room. He put the flashlight away, and decided to wait. Drawing attention to himself would not be the thing to do in this instance, not really knowing, indeed, what he was walking into with Ms. Maguire.

Soon, he got pay off. Jenni appeared in full view of the kitchen area. She was, as far as Harold could tell, making a meal for herself. His eyes widened at the sight of the pretty blonde woman slowly stirring a pot of something or other, while she seemed to be lost in thought, just slowly, absentmindedly stirring.

"Oh, dear," he said to himself. "She's there, in John's house, making herself supper. What are you up to, Ms. Maguire?"

He decided to find out. Turning back again to the front door, he tapped the knocker and waited for her to arrive.

She opened the door, the aroma of soup wafting out towards Harold. She seemed startled at first, as if she thought her tracks had been fully covered. But she masked it well, and smiled at her strange, bespectacled and limping visitor.

"Hello. How can I help you?" she asked, with a slight smile.

"Oh, yes, hello. My name is, uh, Harold Robbins, and I was just passing through on my way from my office and I seem to be a bit lost. I'm from out of town, you see, and I must have taken a wrong turn. Could you direct me to the main drag here? I'm trying to get back to the Golden Arms Hotel."

Jenni was a little suspicious, but more than that, she was was intrigued. A businessman from out of town? That didn't happen very often around there.

"Hi, Harold. I'm Jennifer. What kind of business are you in?"

"Computer sales. Information systems. Keeps me busy, on the road a lot. And you?"

"I'm a student. I live here and go to school at UC Denver."

"Oh!" Harold exclaimed, his eyes widening at her statement. "You live here? With...your boyfriend. How nice."

"Yes. He pays my way through school and I help take care of this place. When we get married, we'll just keep this place. Start a family. We want lots of children."

Harold did all he could to stem the alarm building inside him. _John, what in the devil have you gotten yourself into? And how can I help get you out of it if I can't get in touch with you? _

"Oh, yes, well, that sounds wonderful. Is your boyfriend here? Maybe he might have a map I could access?"

"No GPS? Everyone has GPS now. I would think a computer guy would have that, anyway."

"Yes, well, it's not often very reliable. The old fashioned way often works best, you know."

"Well, he's not here at the moment. He's...working."

"Oh, well, that's too bad. Are you sure you don't have a map I could use? I could come in for just a minute. Please. I'm eager to get back on the road again and get some rest. My, that soup smells wonderful."

Jenni eyed him warily. Had he given away anything?

"My boyfriend doesn't like having strangers in the cabin. I can get your map. Just...hold on a minute. Be right back."

"Thank you. I appreciate that. I don't wish to cause any trouble."

"Yes. Just a minute. Come in."

The magic words Harold wanted to hear were uttered. She invited him in. And within that time that she went to find his map, he'd be able to clone her phone, which was the first thing he spotted on end table near the door.

That task completed, he was stopped in his tracks at what he finally allowed himself to notice while speaking to the young woman, and after his haste to track her cell. The leather chair that she'd taken a knife to was still in disarray, large pieces of it torn out in chunks. But it was the sofa bed that most alarmed him. It, too, was rent and torn, as if with a knife, though no pieces of bedding or spring were still visible on the floor. As for covering, he made out several pieces of torn women's clothing—clothing he recognized, in some instances, as that belonging to Detective Carter.

Jenni returned with the map. Harold's expression betrayed nothing of the shock he'd displayed before she returned, and made a proper show of perusing the map to find his bearings again. When he thought he'd made enough of a show, he returned the map with a smile, and retreated to the door.

"Thank you, Jennifer. You have made a sleepy salesman very grateful. I do hope that you enjoy that wonderful soup you're making. Oh, and good luck with your studies. Psychology is a fine major."

"How...how did you know what I was taking in school?"

Harold cursed himself inwardly, but his poker face betrayed nothing. He hoped that was enough. "Oh, you mentioned it when we were chatting earlier."

"Oh, right...I...I must have. Well...good luck to you too, Mr. Robbins."

"Please, call me Harold."

"Yes...Harold. Good evening."

"Good evening, Jennifer. And thank you again."

"Yes. Drive carefully."

The door closed behind him. He limped quickly, yet carefully, to his rental car. Somehow, he knew that she was watching him from the window. He didn't want to betray anything, lest she was as dangerous as he believed her to be.

How John could have, even in his darkest despair, gotten tangled up with her, he was at a loss for words to consider. Perhaps she was one of the types who could mask her derangement, could put on the face of acceptability for all those she encountered, living "normally" until a trigger washed that all away. If she was as infatuated with John as Sam claimed, and was as unnerved by Joss' race and presence equally, those three factors would have sent her over the edge. And by the looks of things, this young woman was indeed disturbed.

Harold got back into his rental. He fumbled with his phone and made a call to Sam yet again. Sam was working the bar, so he was left with only the option of leaving a message on voice mail.

"Mr. Ginty, it's Harold Finch. We have a serious problem. Is it possible that you can meet me at the Golden Arms after the bar closes? We're dealing with a terribly delusional person who could be very dangerous. I have attempted to alert Mr. Reese yet again, as well as a contact with the New York police department. At this point, I don't think I need to tell you that alerting the local authorities could be more of a danger to John and Joss than not. I'll be in touch."

With one last look at the cabin, Harold started the car up and began to drive away. Dusk was now turning into night. The car sped off in the direction of the main road.

Jenni, from a crack in the door and with one eye, watched him go. She watched until she couldn't see him anymore.

**A/N: I like ending chapters with Harold phone calls, if you hadn't noticed, haha. Okay, so like, John and Joss will need to cut their trip short. They'll probably get a tip from the laptop as they leave the canyons and head up towards Salt Lake City, which would mean either a double back, or a way into northern Colorado by way of Wyoming. Either way, Jenni has taken over the cabin, and now that Harold has seen what he's seen (and he slipped), the stakes get higher. Meanwhile, back in New York, Lionel will continue to keep tabs on Leila and Elias. Lots on Team Machine's plate at the same time!**

**Thanks for hanging in there, guys. I know a lot of you have been longing for another 'Missing' chapter, and this weekend has been the first I've been in the mental state (and had the time) to get one out. Will try to be quicker next go round. **

**Hope you have enjoyed—and happy 4th to all who celebrate. :-)**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Surprise! After a good long while (what, a year and some bits?), here we go with a new chapter of _Missing._ When we last saw John and Joss, they were traveling through Utah. However, that lovely trip they have been on for the past week and some days will soon have to come to an end much sooner than they anticipated. And we know why that is. If you need a referesher, though, feel free to take a gander at a few chaps prior to this installment, haha.**

**Thank you for your patience, and on with the show. Pardon any typos (and none of these characters are mine to claim).**

"Are you shittin' me, Finch? She's gone blinkers! Why, that fool girl! Like I said, I knew somethin' was screwed up with her, but I didn't know just how screwed up! Damn! Damn, where the hell is John? He needs to get his ass back here and deal with her, but good!" Sam bellowed, while slamming one hand on the wooden table in the conference room of the Golden Arms Hotel, and running his other through his white, thinning hair.

Harold sat quietly at the conference table, his hands folded over the wood, next to his now empty dinner plate. The hotel staff had not only allowed the two gentlemen a chance to use the conference room after hours, but also to allow them to take a light supper there as well. Harold's generous tip beforehand, along with his request to use the facility, might have gone a ways in persuading them to let him have his way.

"Yes, Mr. Ginty. It is a most urgent situation."

"I mean, fuck it, Finch. How is it that John couldn't see what this gal was all about, what she might be capable of? Yuh can't pull the wool over a blind man's eyes that good, and John can see better than most."

"Well, Mr. Ginty, if John was in a state of despair, as he would have been when he left us in New York, his faculties of perception wouldn't have been in the most stable fashion once he arrived back here in Colorado. And if he was taken with alcohol at the same time, it would be very easy for someone to take advantage of that situation. I suspect that John would have most certainly reached out to the first friendly female face that came his way. A lifeline of sorts. In this instance, that happened to be young Ms. Maguire. He wouldn't have considered any other possibility in that instance. I'd be hard pressed to say that any of us would, even under normal circumstances."

"Damn, damn..." Sam repeated again. "Yuh know, John, I love 'im. He's a great man; if I ever had to go into battle again in muh life, there'd be no one else I'd do it with. But, Finch, yuh know 'im. Yuh understand how he gets when the blues gets 'im. When they get hold, it's a thing to experience."

"Yes, Mr. Ginty. I am well aware of John's demons and how he's struggled with them. They can be quite formidable. Part of the reason I thought he'd be excellent in working for me is because of those demons. He'd be able to work through them, use them as fuel while exorcising them, maybe, in the work that we did together. And he had been. He was doing well. We were making a difference. And then, he trusted the wrong person."

"Elias. And that sweet little baby. Yep, he told me," Sam sighed, his eyes fraught with watery worry. "And afterwards, Joss pushed him away. A double whammy."

"Yes. But she was right, Mr. Ginty. She was right to be at cross swords with both of us. I'm just glad she was able to come here and make peace with him."

"Well, there ain't gonna be any peace now, with that crackpot shacked up in the cabin. And poor Jocelyn, her things all trashed. I should go there and ring her fool neck now!"

"No, Mr. Ginty, that wouldn't be wise," Finch said in mild alarm, his eyes widening as he spoke. "We want to make sure we do this properly. If you do go up there, half-cocked, no telling what could happen. She might do injury to herself—or you. She could be brought up on charges of criminal trespass, vandalism, and a host of other assorted lesser crimes I'm sure—but we'd need evidence. And John should know what's happening at his home."

"Well, he ain't here, is he?" Sam bellowed before he caught himself and quieted down. He was so angry at that moment he didn't know what to do. Some of his anger, he had to admit to himself, was at John and his not being careful. John was a military man, an assassin. A CIA operative. He knew what that meant, being careful. He knew that he should check things out before getting into a hairy situation. Between the drink and his dick he hadn't been acting the soldier he knew him to be. Shit, and it wasn't since he'd been back there, either. Him trusting wrong, not covering his bases—that started even before this Elias fella showed up, and the deal he made to get that child back.

Oh sure, risk had always been a part of his business. But he was more careful, more rational, less willing to let things just happen to him. Maybe part of it was that it had all become so second nature that he hadn't realized when he was rusty. The Jennis of the world could come in and take advantage of that weakness—or insinuate their own on to him.

He supposed he was a little guilty in this. Those afternoons and evenings when John came to him and wanted booze, he didn't argue with him, never said no and refused him the service. He'd let him have it. He'd let him drink himself under the bar stool, only to struggle with Millie to get John into his car and drop him, in his clothes, onto the sofa bed at the cabin. All he did was voice mild protest or not bother to protest at all. When John asked for another beer, or barked at him to pour him another whiskey shot, he would. John could see the disappointed, judgmental look in Sam's eye—and he'd just chuckle before knocking back whatever it was he'd been given to drink.

There was no sense in regretting his decision to be John's enabler; the booze was drunk and pissed out of him long before that moment. And John was a long grown man. But who knew? Maybe if he hadn't felt so sorry for him, he might have helped him avoid Jenni long enough for him to ignore her body and keep his good sense about him, might have gotten him back to New York and the people who really cared about him, who had given him a purpose when he thought he'd lost it all after the CIA. And he might have been able to patch things up with Joss much sooner.

"I don't know, Finch," Sam said. "This whole thing, if it had happened with someone else, I'd be laughin' my figs off about it. I mean, she ain't shot nobody we know of, nothin' like that; but this is just the beginnin'. And even if we was to get the law involved, there's not much they could do, anyway, save putting a restraining order against her. And if we're tryin' to keep John's name out of it, for not-so-obvious reasons, that makes gettin' the police in on this even less of a solution. Aw, nuts!"

"I understand your frustration, Mr. Ginty. John not being around might be a good thing, in that at least he and Joss can be spared a scene for a little while longer, at least. However, at this point, the only thing we can do is keep an eye on her—and wait."

"How diya propose to do that? Yuh can't stake out that cabin all day. There ain't enough room for that. And she's seen yuh, talked to yuh. Yuh show up there again, she's bound to know somethin's up."

"I won't have to, Mr. Ginty. There are...other ways to keep track of someone without being present."

"Is that right. Finch?" Sam asked, with one eyebrow cocked at his new acquaintance.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Ginty," Harold said, shaking his head. "Quite a number, in fact. Allow me."

Sam couldn't help but grin the grin of a sly fox once Harold unpacked his laptop and showed him the Machine-enhanced computer feeds he was receiving from the area of the cabin. If Jenni even sneezed the wrong way from this point out, the Machine would know about it—and keep record of it.

##

That next morning, John, Joss and Bear bid goodbye to the canyon campsite community and decided to take the six-hour ride up to Salt Lake City, where they would spend an overnight before heading back to Boulder, by way of Wyoming. Joss could take pictures of the city, as well as take a pass by the area of the Great Salt Lake, which Taylor had studied in geography class back in seventh grade, and had been on something of a kick about ever since. She wanted to make sure that she could show him authentic shots, perhaps even a video, of the area to let him know that it was a real—and spectacular—place.

John had made an overnight reservation at the Peery Hotel in downtown Salt Lake. Having mapped out driving time, with stops included, they would make it there just before suppertime, which would be perfect for for getting Bear settled in a temporary kennel, check-in, showers, and then a meal somewhere close. John was familiar with the central city, so that wouldn't be a problem.

He was sporting a few days' growth of beard, the salt and pepper of his scruff mixing in nicely with his loose hair. It was starting to grow out, especially at the back again, so he might want her to trim it for him when they got to the cabin—or they could wait until they were home, as in New York, before she took the clippers to his mane again. Her rugged cowboy vigilante. The guy in the Marlboro ad had nothing on John Reese.

Soon, very soon in fact, all this would be over. She had had no clue about the Far West just a few weeks before, only that it was far, and that she'd never been there. Now, that it was nearly time to leave, she felt those pangs of sadness well up within her that she'd managed to tamp down up to that point; but a long car ride to Salt Lake City gave a gal time to think. And though she really couldn't wait to see her baby again, and even missed her desk at the 8th, she was genuine in her regret at leaving. Colorado had changed her life.

Of course, sadness wasn't the only feeling she'd closed herself from feeling on this trip. There had also still be that niggling sense that something was a little off at the cabin, or at least surrounding the area. John had assured her that nothing was amiss, and it had looked that way when she checked around herself. But still, she couldn't help think that there was just something out of place. Her detective instincts were hard to turn off, no matter what.

However, in order not to spoil their wonderful trip, she refrained from bringing up the subject again. Hopefully, it really was all just in her head, and everything was fine. It was nice when her hunches were wrong.

After a few hours on the road, in lively conversation with John, in which they laughed, sipped juice, marveled at the wild and open landscapes in front of them, and sang campfire songs, Joss got settled in with the light quilt on her seat and nodded off for a little nap. John, who had always been able to push his own limits in endurance, was happy to continue driving the quarter day's time, with only one stop to fill up on gas, to Salt Lake City. He continued on, through open roads that eventually merged into main drag interstates, every once in a while taking his eyes off the road to smile and glance at his lady love. She was so sweet in her sleep, her lips parted slightly, any tension or stress she may have had not visible on her face. She had even gotten a little darker in their time in the sun, which made her even more beautiful, more sexy, her deep golden mocha an enticing display of womanliness.

He was so fortunate. So proud to call her his own. To him, she was the most loving, most exciting woman he'd ever known. And he swore he'd do right by her once they got back to New York. She deserved nothing less. She deserved his best—and he'd spend the rest of his life giving that to her, if she wanted that.

When he thought about how they almost missed their chance, he shuddered. It had been her bravery and her love that sent her on a trip that way to find him. Had she not come, he would have probably continued to drink himself towards a slow death, his love for her blurred and distorted by booze and melancholy.

Or he might have found himself attached to Jenni permanently in some way, perhaps through pregnancy, in which he, from some long since honed impulse towards honor, would have insisted on marrying her and making a kind of home for the two of them and their child. He'd have moved them all to his parents' house in Boulder, as the cabin would have been no place for a little one, at least not once the child began to grow and be active. From there, he supposed he'd have figured out a means to make that work—even in a state as miserable as he suspected he'd be in that situation.

No, he'd not felt much in the way of love for Jenni. She was pretty and feminine in her own way, and he did enjoy having her feminine company to an extent, but no, he could never see himself loving her the way a man really loves a woman. Heart, body, and soul, without question, without fear. The way he loved Joss.

The truth was that, even in the haze of his drunken stupors and indifference, he felt a disturbance in her. Beyond the fact that they had so little in common, she was suffocating, wanting to mother him, a man biologically old enough to be her father, when he didn't really want to be mothered. Much of the time, he wanted to be left alone. But not always. Sometimes, yes, his body indeed sought the comfort of warmth, of sexual contact, to temporarily ease the burdens of his mind and heart. And that would work for the time-being. He could close his eyes while she rode his dick and let that mind go as it would, wherever it could, until his body jerked and released in climax, her soft hair draping over his chest as she came in for a kiss to seal the contract. That worked well. Usually.

But it was only temporary. The dreams kept coming, and his mind went to ever darker and harrowing places as he lived them. The drinking increased. And he quietly, unobtrusively, began to spiral further and further into the abyss. There were no violent outbursts, no destruction of his home, nothing like that. He could often function perfectly fine while drunk off his ass. If anyone who didn't know him ever approached him, they'd be none the wiser that he was inebriated—unless they got close enough to get a whiff of the reeking booze.

But then, Joss came for him. She had come to find him, and offer her love to him, as she had always, if he really thought about it. That night they met and she asked him if he needed help, she was offering her love to him, a total stranger, a perp on the subway. He was nothing special, and was in a dark place then, too—but just as she had in Golden, she reached out to find him, to find the redeemable in him, while still daring herself to accept his demons into her life. Beyond her stunning physical beauty, she had a beautiful soul, the most beautiful, loving soul he'd ever met.

Once he saw her in Sam's bar, that was the end of him and Jenni. Even though he'd attempted, in some half-hearted measure to be considerate of her feelings for him, he knew the moment Joss appeared to him in the booth that night that he'd claim her for himself. In his heart, he already had.

But still, he hoped, in some small measure, that Jenni was okay. Despite her insensitivity, rudeness, and immaturity, she had been sweet at times, and being with her was often better than being alone in those first few months back in Colorado. When they weren't in bed, they'd share meals together, and play hands of poker. Usually she won. And he was fine with that. Sometimes, she'd tell him about her classes at the university, and which professors were easy and which ones were tough. Things were hard economically for her, even with the work at the diner, and that prior semester he'd paid for her textbooks and student fees, as well as gave her money for extra expenses as they came up. She hugged and kissed him so many times for his gesture, he thought he'd get a rug burn on his face.

She tried to please him the way she knew, and if it didn't sound like crap to his own ears, he'd have given her the it's-not-you-it's-me speech he had prepped in his head the night he broke it off with her. But he didn't do that. He sat with her while she cried and begged him to give them another chance, and he remained steadfast in his resolve to return to Joss and their connection in the cabin. When he and Joss agreed to cool it in order to spare Jenni's feelings, it sounded like a good idea at the time. Truth was, it just hadn't made any sense. There would have been no way on earth he could have kept his hands off her. And Jenni's racist outburst only made it easier for him to do what the hell he was going to do anyway.

After a few hours of quiet on the road in which Joss continued to nap, as well as Bear in the back, John decided it was time for them to stop for gas and a bite to eat. There was a truck stop diner, Big Jim's Diner, on this particular intersection, and truth be told he was rather hungry after the miles they'd logged. A juicy burger with fries and a milkshake to wash them down with sounded spectacular. Bear would have to wait with some treats in the truck while he and Joss ate.

"Mmmmmm..." Joss murmured in her sleep. She motioned her head back and forth while John leaned over and planted light kisses on her cheeks, lips, nose and eyebrows in an effort to rouse her. This continued until she opened her eyes, grinned a sleepy grin, and stretched.

"Are we there yet, Dad?" she joked on a yawn.

"No, honey. Still a couple more hours yet. But I need to fill er up, and me too if we're gonna make it there. There's fuel for the truck and us here. You hungry?"

Joss yawned and stretched again, fully awake now, and took in her surroundings. Along with the diner and gas station, there were other small town establishments to be seen, including pawn shops, gun and tackle shops, western gear shops, and even a cowboy chapel. It was a gorgeously sunny day, no clouds to be seen. She was refreshed after her nap, though she realized that by sleeping she missed some potentially amazing scenery.

"Mmm, yeah, I could eat. We're stopping here for dinner?"

"Yeah, it's good. I remember this diner. Unless you want to drive around a little more and get something else," he said, smiling at her, and staring at her as if he'd kill a wild boar if she asked him to.

"No, this looks okay. It'd be nice to sit in a booth and spread out a little. Get off the road."

"Yeah, I like driving the open road, but even I can get use a little stretch of the old legs."

"Your legs are not old, John Reese."

"Never let em see you sweat, Detective," he grinned.

The diner was packed in with truck stoppers, nearby locals, tourists and anyone else who needed a solid bite to eat in that neck of the woods. The décor was much in keeping with a typical roadside diner in those parts: jukebox, bar stools, booths, photos of old rodeo stars, Elvis, and maps of the Old West. The place had been there for a while, but it was sturdy and clean, and the big windows and high ceiling let the sunlight right in.

When they entered the diner together, John and Joss were initially treated to a few stares of both bewilderment and indifference. Joss knew those stares and for a fleeting moment, she felt the pangs of discomfort. But soon, her belly and her detective's confidence told her to ignore that and look forward to sinking down into a booth—and her teeth into a big, juicy burger.

They were shown to a booth near one of the large windows by their waitress, a bubbly young brunette called Sandy, who wore a little too much makeup and wiggled when she walked. Once seated, she handed both of them large menus encased in plastic, and filled their water glasses before giving them a few minutes to order.

Suddenly, Joss was so hungry she could eat the whole menu. There were platters for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and everything in between. John smiled as he watched her peruse the diner menu, her big brown eyes even bigger now that the entrees caught her attention.

"It's great, isn't it? I know New York is the capital of sinful food, true—but this place would give the Tick Tock a run for its money any day," he said.

"Oh, yeah. Hard to choose. It all looks so good right now."

John took but a second or two to find what he wanted. "I'm going to have the Triple Crown with onion rings and a chocolate milkshake."

The Triple Crown was a triple cheeseburger with three slices of sesame bread bun, pickles, lettuce and tomatoes, mustard, ketchup, and bacon. Essentially, a heart attack on a plate.

"Mmm, onion rings. That sounds good. Maybe I'll get that, too, with mine."

"Or I could order extra, and we can share, baby," John suggested.

Joss grinned. "Aw, sweet," she said. "Yes, let's share."

"Decided on anything else?" John asked, his hands now folded in front of his chin. His menu was closed at the moment, as he knew what he was getting before they walked in.

"I think I'll have the Southwestern Swiss Burger and a cherry Coke. Haven't had one of those in forever."

"Mmm, sounds good. I might steal a sip or two. I'm quite a fan of cherry Coke." His green eyes twinkled as he studied her. He seemed to do that a lot. She was so damn easy to study.

Just then, Sandy returned with her order pad and apron. She remained the bubbly waitress, and Joss decided that she liked the little miss very much. Even if the food was rotten, she'd be sure to have John leave her a nice tip.

Once they'd ordered, John took a gander out the window where his truck was parked to make sure that Bear was still okay. They had left in him the truck with dog jerk treats while they ate. Bear was usually content wherever he was, but John still wanted to keep an eye out. Once he found him sound, his attention returned to Joss.

"Our little trip is nearly over, Joss."

"Yeah. Seems like we just got here. But we've packed a helluva lot of living into these few days. "

"True," he nodded thoughtfully. "It's been...intense."

Now, it was Joss' turn to smirk. "Oh, I'll say. Very, very...intense."

He took her hand, much like he'd done in the French restaurant in Golden. "We still have one more night, honey. The intensity doesn't have to end just yet."

"Hopefully, it will never end, whether we're on vacation or not," she grinned.

"Hmm, no, I don't think it will. Least not on my end," he said softly, his pensive tone touched with an edge of desire.

Between his gaze and his tone of voice, Joss felt the little diner get warm very soon. He had that way of looking at her that just made her want to do anything for him; it was a look of love, devotion, and longing, the kind of which she'd never really experienced before, even with her ex. Luckily, they were interrupted by their waitress, who had a tray of water and cola for their refreshment.

"Okay, here are your waters and your cherry Coke, ma'am, for you. Your orders'll be coming up shortly," Sandy said pleasantly. She wore a bit too much blue eye shadow for Joss' taste, but the pink uniform and apron fit her to a tee.

As Sandy departed from the table, Joss' expression turned slightly solemn, a change John did not miss.

"I'm a big guy, Joss, but even I can't eat all this food by myself."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Well, you don't seem hungry all of a sudden. Or is there something else on your mind?"

"Oh, no, no, I'm looking forward to that burger," she said. "I just realized that since we've been out here, I haven't called home, spoken to to Taylor or my mom. In fact, I haven't called home since that night you broke things off with Jenni."

"Hmm, I guess we have been rather busy, haven't we? Well, you want to try him when we get to the motel? We've powered down our phones, so that might not be so doable here, but later, sure. I'm guessing that he's missed you, too."

"Yes, I was planning on it. Plus, I have some pictures to send through the laptop, if I could."

John smiled and agreed. He figured he should also get in touch with Sam to see how things were. It had just been so nice to have Joss all to himself that he didn't want to spoil that.

Within fifteen minutes, Sandy had come back with their orders. Everything looked and smelled wonderful, and both John and Joss were eager to dig in. Shared onion rings, sips of one another's drinks, and a sample swap of burgers featured prominently for the new lovers. By the time they had finished, they were so full they had to sit for a little while to let the food really settle in. But Joss didn't mind. So long as John was with her, she could get used to all this good eating.

Bear was happy to see his humans come back for him after a time. John hadn't forgotten his boy, as he slipped him a piece of the Triple Crown burger, sans ketchup and onions, which the husky was happy to get.

##

When they finally pulled into Salt Lake City a few hours later, Bear was itching—and barking—for a walk, and Joss for a shower and a bed to sleep in. Though she'd been sleeping for much of the ride, sitting in a truck seat for more than four hours could still wear a gal down, and a bed, with pillows would be a welcome relief. After check in, John decided to get Bear going with a jaunt around the area, while Joss settled in at the hotel. Luckily, it was an establishment that was pet-friendly, so long as owners kept tight control over their animals.

"You know, I did all the driving," he grinned, after washing his face with a cloth and changing into a red flannel shirt.

"True," she replied. "but you're more used to this kind of living than I am. Go on and get Bear outside. I'll be fine."

"All right. Back soon. Come on, Bear. Let's go, boy!"

Bear scooted over to get fitted for his leash and soon they were off. Joss giggled and shook her head at her two men, and hit the shower. The small yet cozy hotel room was perfect, and after the long ride, the hot shower only seconded that emotion.

When she was done and dried, Joss found a pair of shorts and a tee shirt in her luggage to wear for her nap, a nap she almost didn't need anymore, since she had gone and gotten cleaned up. But take advantage of the alone time—and the bed—she would. It had been the the three of them for the past week and a half, and though she loved him dearly, a little breather was quite okay.

Besides that, it was time for her to keep a little promise to herself: calling home. Taylor must be worried sick about her, and truthfully, she was about him. Even though she knew he was fine in Finch's capable hands, she was still his mother. Her mind was already making the shift back to reality, back to the world of bad guys and staying one step ahead of them. But she was also shifting back towards being there for him. And that was nothing to not look forward to.

She took out her phone to power it up. Once plugged in, she was stopped cold by the information displayed on the screen. She had been getting calls, lots of calls, from an unlisted number—but it was a number that she recognized all too well.

"Why has Finch been calling me? Oh, my God, something's happened to Taylor," she said aloud, the only reason she could think of for why there had been so many voice mails from the reclusive billionaire, and for the time, minder of her son.

Her fingers trembled as she attempted to place a call back to him. What was going on with her baby? Why hadn't she thought to keep her phone on? Those and other self-recriminating questions flooded her mind, and she could feel the pang of tears strike her eyes as she got the number through and put the phone to her ear, awaiting an answer.

The phone picked up on the other end after only half a ring. "Detective! Oh, thank God!" Finch's voice sounded over the line.

"Harold, what's wrong? Where is Taylor? What's happened to Taylor?"

For a second, Harold had forgotten that she didn't know he was there in Colorado. "Oh, Detective, I'm sorry. Taylor is fine. He's with your mother back in New York. But I'm afraid all is not fine for you and Mr. Reese, Detective!"

Joss sat up straight on the bed, all ears, in business mode, now that she knew Taylor was not in harm's way. "What? Harold, what's going on? What do you mean Taylor's back in New York? Where are you?"

"I'm here, Detective, here in Golden, on a very urgent matter, concerning the both of you. Is Mr. Reese there with you?"

"No," she answered. "He's out on a run with Bear. Will you tell me what this is about?"

She could hear Harold take a shaky breath. "Detective, while I hate to be the killjoy when it comes to what I assume to be a most lovely vacation, and definitely a most needed one for both you and Mr. Reese-"

"Harold, get on with it," she said, cutting him off.

"-it is imperative that you and Mr. Reese return to Colorado as soon as possible." The rush of words from his mouth were like none she'd ever heard from the normally cool and collected Harold Finch. And suddenly, those niggling fears she'd had were now getting validation. She didn't know exactly why at the moment, but she knew something having to do with her concerns before they left was the reason for Harold's distress.

"Why, Harold? What's happened?"

"There has been a home invasion of Mr. Reese's cabin, Detective."

"A home invasion? What? Who? Do you have any leads?"

"Yes. You are familiar with a young woman by the name of Jennifer Maguire, yes?"

Joss' heart grew stone cold at the mention of her name. "Yes," she clipped out indignantly. "Oh, yes, I am. Very much so."

"Well, Ms. Maguire has taken it upon herself to set up residence in the cabin in your absence."

"What? Are you serious, Harold?"

"I'm afraid so, Detective. And...she's been quite hell bent on remaking the place for herself. Add vandalism to the list of crimes she's guilty of."

Joss' anger flared higher with each word Harold spoke. Damn that girl!

"I hope she's been arrested. She has been arrested, hasn't she?"

"Well...no, Detective. She has not. In fact...she's still there."

"No! Harold, call the police. Call them, and get that bitch out of the cabin! I don't fucking believe this! No, no, I take that back. I believe it wholeheartedly. She's nuts." Joss wasn't aware that her tone had ratcheded up several notches while speaking to Harold. But it had—since, several minutes later, on the other side of the door, John quickly slipped in his key card and flung it open, as she spoke. He came in to find her on the phone, pacing, the expresion on her face much like it was when in pursuit of a killer on the streets.

"Joss?" he whispered, now alarmed at her alarm. "What's up? Is it Taylor? Everything okay? I heard Harold's name. What's going on?"

When he saw her face full on, his heart began to pound in his chest, and he knew that, whatever it was, their idyll was now indeed over.

"Here," she said, handing him the phone, her voice now quiet. "He needs to speak to you."

John took the phone from her slowly, their eyes meeting, hers sparked with tears as she curled her bottom lip over her teeth. "Joss..." he started to say.

"No," she replied. "Talk to Harold. It's important. I'm going to start...repacking."

John got online with Harold, who, in painstaking detail, filled him in on all that had taken place since they'd been away from Golden.

He sighed, the heaviest sigh Joss had ever heard. Not much else. Not much in the way of words. Just confirmational grunts. And that heavy sigh, at least three more times.

When he got off the phone, he had no choice but to, grab his own rucksack and join Joss in the repack effort.

"Dammit, Jenni," he swore to himself. "What are you doing? Don't you understand that this can only end badly?"

"I knew it," Joss said as she frantically gathered her toiletries from the bathroom back into her rucksack. "Didn't I tell you something was off, John, before we left? It was her all along. That stupid bitch. I want her arrested for trespassing. She's getting arrested for trespassing, and destruction of private property. I can make that happen, with a few NYPD strings, if you're still off the grid. Shit, wait until I get my hands on her! She'll wish she never fucked with me!"

"This is all my fault," John finally said, his voice deep, grave with the weight of responsibility. "I should have let her down more easily. I should have given it some time, maybe. I don't know. But I'm responsible. Ah, hell..." He stopped reloading to sit on the edge of the tub, running his fingers through his hair.

"John, no way. This is not your fault. Obviously, this girl has serious issues that go beyond anything you could have helped her with. She took this on herself, breaking into your home and destroying it. I mean, all the souvenirs I got for Taylor! The clothing you bought me, all destroyed because of her and her sick jealousy! Issues or not, when I think of it, it makes me want to kill her!"

At her words, John pulled Joss to him by the waist and just held her for several moments. It was enough to take some of the sting out of her anger. They held on closely, lovingly, Joss' fingers losing themselves in his hair.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said. "I'm sorry for all of this. I seem to keep involvng you in my messes, don't I? First in New York, now here. I'm sorry."

"No, John. You didn't know. And you're not to blame for Jenni's behavior. We'll fix this. Somehow, we'll fix it."

"Are you all packed up again? Just about?" he asked.

Joss looked down, before responding, "yes."

"Good. If we drive all night, we should be back in Golden early tomorrow morning."

**A/N: So, the lovers have now been informed, and their beautiful trip gets cut short in order to deal with Jenni. Can't decide yet how I will let Joss deal with her, or if she will be that one or not. However, there will be a new player on the scene coming up, who will have a major effect on the proceedings. For now, John and Joss must sadly get back on the road. And poor John, feeling responsible for Jenni, even though she's struck the blows against both him and Joss. Perhaps his tune will change when he sees exactly what his cabin looks like.**

**For all you guys who have been waiting for an update to this story for MONTHS now, I offer great apology (as usual). Truth is, I had been going through a bout of writer's block on MR, with the first few pages on my computer since early spring. Yes, that long. Not sure why, when I've been rather prolific with it in the past. But I think things will be a bit clearer going forward. At least I hope they are!**

**Thanks to everyone who reads and comments (or just reads). Knowing that folks take the time makes continuing to do this all worthwhile. Blessings for a great rest of the summer!**


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